Chuck vs the Terrible, Horrible, NG,Really Bad Day
by Authors Intersect
Summary: NOW COMPLETE! A Round Robin story by the Authors Intersect - 8 different FF authors. Chapter 17: The End - Part II. The final confrontation as Team Zodiac and the Buy Morons take on the Ring.
1. Prison Break!

Author's Note: This is the first chapter of a 'round robin' by several of the authors here on fanfiction[dot]net. Check out the Authors Intersect profile for an explanation of the project.

Thanks to MySoapBox and Poa for their proofreading of this chapter.

Oh, and the Authors Intersect doesn't own _Chuck_ either, although we made a very lucrative offer involving some Nerds, Five Dollar Footlongs, a well-used Season 1 DVD collection, and some spare pocket change.

CHUCK VERSUS THE TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE,

NO GOOD, REALLY BAD DAY

Chapter 1

by Timewalker05

Prison Break!

_Agua Caliente, High Desert - An abandoned service station_

The team leader held up his hand and nine shadows - his special operations team - froze in place, each man still as a stone. The team leader, code named Stalker, slowly scanned the target - a deserted gas station - with his night vision goggles. With a hand signal, he motioned his team into their pre-selected cover locations. Now came the waiting.

One hour and twelve minutes later, the door to the station's rest room opened. Two men stepped out and walked a few feet from the door. There was a brief brilliance in Stalker's night vision goggles as the first man struck a match and held it up to the end of a cigarette, then passed it to his companion who did likewise. Stalker nodded slowly as the flame of the match illuminated the face of the second man.

After a few minutes of stomping in the cold desert air to keep warm, the two finished their cigarettes and turned to go back inside. The second man reached into his pocket, keyed an infrared strobe – invisible to any but those wearing night vision goggles – and dropped it to the ground, slapping the first man on the back at the exact moment that he did so to mask the quiet 'thud' as it hit the ground. Stalker nodded silently at the signal to begin the infiltration.

The door to the facility opened and the two went back inside. Stalker held up a hand with all five fingers extended. Five minutes. He glanced down at his watch and began the count. At sixty seconds he held up four fingers, then three, then two. When he held up one finger, his team began to move stealthily across the desert toward the station. He touched a button and a schematic of the facility appeared on the heads of display of his tac helment, with tiny dots showing each member of his team as them moved to their assigned locations - Alpha Team to the air vents and Bravo team to the service elevator.

Stalker moved silently up to the door that the two men had come through five minutes before and carefully laid a hand on the knob. His number two glanced over at him and held his breath. This was the most dangerous part of the entire operation; their greatest chance of being discovered and before they infiltrated the facility. Stalker had specifically designed the mission so that if things went south, only he and his 2IC (second in command) would be sacrificed in the initial infiltration.

Stalker slowly turned the knob and opened the door. No alarm sounded. His number two silently let out his breath. They stepped into the dirty, dingy men's room and immediately went to the sink. Turning the hot water knob three turns to the left and the cold water knob three turns to the left, the entire room started to slowly sink. Stalker allowed himself a rare smile.

At the same time, his Alpha Team popped the vents to the facility's air intakes and tossed in a half dozen gas grenades while the Bravo team used a plasma welder to cut its way into the shaft for the facility's service elevator.

Stalker and his 2IC checked their weapons as the restroom elevator slowed to a stop. The wall next to them opened and a surprised guard, sitting at a desk facing the elevator, jumped to his feet. Stalker pumped two bullets into the center of his forehead and he slumped over the desk. Stalker pulled the man's body aside and hit the button to send the elevator back to the surface where the Alpha Team was waiting. Pulling a small handheld device out of his tac vest, the 2IC connected it to the guard's computer console. Immediately, alarms began sounding and the lights of the facility went from a harsh fluorescent to a dim red. Stalker reached down and grabbed the key-card from around the dead guard's neck.

The door at the far end of the corridor opened and two guards emerged, only to have the 2IC drop them both with well-aimed shots. The elevator doors opened and the four men of the Alpha Team entered the facility. The team leader nodded to Stalker and the team put on their gas masks.

With the press of a button on a small remote, the gas grenades began pumping out billowing clouds of knock-out gas, which the ventilation system began to spread throughout the facility.

This was followed by a deep rumble which indicated that the Bravo Team had breached the facility as well, rappelling into the service elevator shaft. At a signal from Stalker, the men began to fan out in their carefully planned and carefully rehearsed choreography. Stalker headed down the main hall, checking the cells until he came to the last cell at the end of the corridor. He slid the guard's key-card into the slot by the door and the door to the cell slid open.

A man in an orange jumpsuit was sitting on the cell's bunk. He looked up as Stalker tossed him a gas mask, which he promptly donned. He checked the seals before standing and striding up to Stalker. Fulcrum Tommy's smirk was hidden behind the gas mask, but Stalker could see the amusement in his eyes. "Took you long enough," Tommy said.

They started back down the hallway. "Get Leader, Lizzie, and Ned," Tommy ordered. Then he stopped. "Wait. Let them all go. Let the CIA try and track all of us down."

Stalker nodded and keyed his mike. "Vent the gas and then open all the cell doors. Kill any remaining guards."

***

_Echo Park, California - Casa Bartowksi_

Chuck's alarm sounded and he rolled over and slapped at it. He looked at the time and moaned. Six a.m. He considered hitting the snooze button, but he only had forty-five minutes to shower, shave and pick up Sarah before heading to the airport to pick up Devon and Ellie Woodcomb - it was still a little weird thinking of his sister as 'Ellie Woodcomb' - from the airport. Why they insisted on taking the red-eye from Hawaii he had no idea.

He had just finished brushing his teeth and was walking back into his room to get dressed when there was a knock at the 'Morgan door.' The window opened and Casey and Sarah stepped in. Chuck looked at them, then down at the towel around his waist.

"Geeze, could you at least let me get dressed?" he griped as Casey scowled and Sarah smiled at him.

"Relax, Bartowski," Casey said. "Nothing I haven't been forced to look at daily for the past two years. And I'd think you'd be happy to be posing for Walker here."

"Shut it, Casey," Sarah said. "Good morning, Chuck. We have a situation."

"Can it wait?" Chuck asked. "I have to go pick up Ellie and Awesome from the airport."

"We've sent a limo for them," Sarah said. "They'll tell Ellie you arranged it as part of the whole reception planning."

"Where are we going?" Chuck asked.

"The Castle," Sarah said. "We have a briefing in twenty minutes."

"I thought the CIA was shutting down the Castle since Casey and I weren't at the Buy More anymore."

"We need somewhere secure and the Castle's our only secure facility in L.A. right now," Casey replied. "Some numbskull at Langley forgot to cancel the order to deactivate the secure lines to my apartment."

Chuck motioned to his towel. "Can I at least get dressed first?" he asked.

Sarah smiled. "We'll wait outside."

***

_The Castle – Secret CIA Facility beneath the Orange Orange – Burbank, California_

Twenty minutes later, they were standing in a partially dismantled Castle in front of the familiar large screen monitor on which was the equally familiar face of General Diane Beckman.

"Good morning, General," Chuck said. "You're looking well."

General Beckman scowled, followed by another scowl from Casey.

"At 0427 this morning, there was an attack on the Agua Caliente Threatmax Prison," Beckman began.

"The Agua what?" Chuck asked.

Sarah turned to him. "The Agua Caliente Threatmax Prison is a secret supermax detention facility where the CIA keeps its most dangerous prisoners. Those that cannot be kept in a normal prison facility or who need to 'disappear' so they cannot divulge information to their organizations."

"Agua Caliente is where we kept all the prisoners captured by Team Bartowski," Beckman said. "Fulcrum Tommy, Dr. Zarnow, La Cuidad, Reardon Paine, Lizzie the Pita Girl, Mr. Colt, Sasha Banacheck, Farrokh Bulsara, Leader, Ty Bennett, Ned Rhyerson - all of them."

"Who attacked the facility?" Casey asked.

"Unknown," Beckman said. "But what is clear is they had help, from both inside the CIA and inside the facility itself. All the prisoners escaped. Our analysis indicates that this may be a concerted effort to target the man responsible for putting them behind bars."

"But, but, but," Chuck stammered. "That would be me."

"That's correct," Beckman said. "Due to the unprecedented nature of this threat, I am initiating Operation Zodiac."

Sarah 's eyes went wide. Casey muttered, "Chuck me."

"Um, what's Operation Zodiac?" Chuck asked.

"Agent Walker?" Beckman said.

Sarah turned to Chuck. "In the event of a serious threat to the Intersect - to you, Chuck - the normal procedure would be to put you in lockdown until the threat could be neutralized."

"Or permanently," Casey muttered.

Sarah gave him a dirty look and continued. "However, there was always the possibility of a mole inside the CIA or NSA, making lockdown itself unsafe. In that event, we would initiate Operation Zodiac."

Casey let out another grunt at the mere mention of the name.

"Under Operation Zodiac protocols, all agents with knowledge of the Intersect, or at least knowledge of your real identity, would be brought in to assist with protecting you and terminating the threat. That way, knowledge of your... status... wouldn't go beyond those who already know you. As an added bonus, they're all people we have worked with and we know we can trust."

"Hardly," Casey grunted.

"So, who's on this Zodiac team?" Chuck asked.

"Well," Sarah said, "Our initial contact would have been Bryce."

"And now that Bryce is dead..." Chuck said.

"Allow me, Agent Walker," Beckman said. "We have requested assistance from Roan Montgomery, Cole Barker, Carina, and Agent Alex Forrest. All these agents are currently on other assignments; we have sent recall signals, but I can't guaranty when or if they will arrive. We have also tried to get word to Orion, Stephen Bartowski, but he has gone off grid. I am afraid that until help arrives, you are on your own. I can detail some additional security teams to the Los Angeles area, but until we know who the mole or moles are in our operations, I can't assign any more agents specifically to watch Mr. Bartowski."

"Is Roan... well, last time we found him he wasn't exactly in fighting trim" Casey said.

"_Agent Montgomery_ is still one of the best agents in the business. He was eager to come back from his... vacation... in Cancun to assist in Operation Zodiac," Beckman replied. "We've notified everyone on the Zodiac list. It may take some time for them all to reach L.A. In the meantime, you need to be extremely cautious. Several of the escapees already know about you, Chuck, and have no doubt informed the others. Fortunately for us, we do not believe that the escapees will trust each other enough to work together. Their lack of coordination should give us an advantage."

"Well, I guess that's something," Chuck said with a sigh. "This is like the last level of a video game where you meet all the bosses of all the levels at the same time."

Beckman frowned, clearly puzzled at the reference. "Look at it this way. This will be an excellent field test of your new abilities, Agent Bartowski."

"You know, General, I'm still not comfortable with this whole 'agent' thing," Chuck replied.

"You should have thought of that before you downloaded the Fulcrum Intersect," Beckman replied. She looked at Sarah and Casey. "I've assigned all the agents I can to tracking down the escapees, but I'm afraid that the lion's share of the responsibility will rest on your shoulders."

"Why don't we just lock Bartowski in the Castle until it's all over?" Casey asked.

"Leader knows the location of the Castle," Beckman reminded him. "Our analysis suggests he may make an attack on that facility."

"What about the Buy More?" Chuck asked. "A lot of those baddies know that I worked at the Buy More. Won't the people there be in danger?"

"We're hoping that some of them do make a play for the Buy More," Beckman responded. "When they do, it will give us an excellent opportunity to catch them."

Chuck frowned, clearly unhappy at using his friends at the Buy More as bait.

"If there is nothing else," Beckman said. "I need to coordinate our search teams." She didn't wait for a reply before terminating the connection.

Chuck slumped into a chair. "Great. Just great," he moaned. "Not only do we have Fulcrum and this mysterious Ring to deal with, now we've got every bad guy we've ever dealt with coming after us, too."

Sarah sat in the chair next to him and laid a hand on his arm. "It'll be okay, Chuck. Think of it this way. These are all people we've beaten before and we'll beat them again. And none of them know about the new Intersect."

"But Sarah," Chuck moaned. "I don't know about the new Intersect either. Before he disappeared again, I asked Dad about how it worked and he didn't know. It wasn't his design. I wish he were here."

"Beckman is trying to contact him," Sarah replied. "You can do this, Chuck. I know you can."

"As long as I have you beside me," Chuck said with a weak smile.

Casey began to make gagging noises. "Before you two go at it here on the conference table, can I remind you that there is a host of pissed off bad guys gunning for us and we don't know when our backup is going to arrive?"

"You know, the promotion did nothing for his attitude," Chuck said.

"Casey's right," Sarah said. "We need to come up with a plan. We know the Castle isn't safe."

Chuck 's eyes widened as he had a sudden thought. "I need to warn Awesome. If they're after me, they may come after him and my sister. I wonder if we can get them to take another couple weeks in Hawaii. I still have a little of my spy money left."

Sarah looked at her watch and shook her head. "They've already landed. Besides, you don't want to blow your cover with Ellie."

"Yeah, but I do want to warn Awesome. He knows about me, now, and he can keep an eye on Ellie."

Casey grunted. It was obvious what he thought about Devon's ability to protect Chuck's sister from the likes of La Cuidad, Mr. Colt or Leader.

"We'll stop by the apartment, welcome them back from their honeymoon, and warn Devon," Sarah said. "You'll need to pick up some clothes. Your apartment may not be safe. We'll have to move in together until Operation Zodiac is over."

Chuck's eyes went wide."Sarah, I..."

"Non-negotiable, Chuck," Sarah replied. "I want you where I can keep an eye on you."

"Among other things," Casey snorted.

***

_Casa Bartowski – Echo Park, California_

"Sarah! Chuck! It's so good to see you!" Ellie cried when Chuck and Sarah came through the door. Ellie and Awesome were still in the living room surrounded by a mountain of luggage, the limo driver having dropped them off only a short time before.

"Hey, sis, welcome home," Chuck said, wrapping his sister in a big hug.

"How was the honeymoon?" Sarah asked as Ellie hurried over to wrap her in a hug as well.

"Awesome," Devon replied. "Windsurfing, parasailing, volcano hiking, and plenty of indoor recreation, if you know what I mean."

"Devon!" Ellie chided him.

"Hey, babe, I made an honest woman of you. I'm sure Chuck and Sarah know..."

"Sarah, you must have come over quite often," Ellie said quickly, cutting him off. "My brother didn't wreck the place while we were gone."

"Yeah, about that," Chuck said. "Sarah and I were talking, and since you two are newlyweds and all, we thought you didn't need your little brother hanging around while you settle into wedded bliss, so I was going to go stay with Sarah for awhile."

"Hey, bro, you know you're always... oof!" Devon was cut off by an elbow to his ribs from Ellie.

"That's a great idea!" Ellie said. "It will give Devon and I a chance to get settled in and give you and Sarah a chance to spend more time together. After all, she did catch the bouquet at the wedding."

Chuck glanced over at Sarah. Was she blushing? No. It must just be the light.

Ellie insisted on cooking breakfast, claiming she missed cooking while on her honeymoon. Since Chuck didn't have any food in the house, Ellie dragged Sarah to the store to buy the necessary groceries while Chuck packed and Devon unpacked.

As soon as 'the girls' were gone, Chuck turned to Devon. His look was suddenly very serious. "Devon, there's something we need to talk about."

"Is this about you being a spy?" Devon asked. "Awesome. Whatever you need, bro. I got your back."

"I'm glad you said that. I need you to keep an eye on Ellie. Sarah, Casey and I have... well, we've put away some very bad people during the last two years. Early this morning, there was a prison break and a lot of those bad people got away."

"Whoa," Devon said. "Not awesome. You think they're gonna come looking for you, dude?"

Chuck nodded. "Yeah. I think they will. But one of them is the guy who poisoned Ellie last year and he may have put two and two together and try coming after her again. I've asked for a CIA team to watch you and Ellie, but I need you to keep your eyes open and call me if anything, _anything_ is out of the ordinary."

"You really think they might come after Ellie?" Devon said, looking suddenly a lot less like Captain Awesome and a lot more like a worried husband.

"I hope not," Chuck said. "But I want you to be ready."

"I've got your back, bro. Same as before. Same as always," Devon said, throwing Chuck a salute. "You can count on me."

"I know I can, Devon. Listen, don't take any chances. These are dangerous people. Killers. If anything happens, you grab Ellie and run."

Devon nodded solemnly.

"I'm sorry about this," Chuck said. "Not a great way to come back from your honeymoon."

"No worries, bro. You're, like, protecting the country, right? You know you can always count on me for anything. We're family now, Chuck, and family takes care of their own."

Chuck smiled. "Devon, you're awesome."

Devon smiled back. "It takes one to know one, bro. It takes one to know one."


	2. Enter the Dragon

_Author's Notes: Many thanks to **Altonish** who was a great beta and helped me get out of my writers block. He basically deserves co-writing credit on a few of these sections so if you read a line that you think is funny it's probably his. Thanks also to **Timewalker05** who betaed the rewrite. I took a couple of lines from him too. Anything you don't like is mine, all mine._

**CHUCK VERSUS THE TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE,**

**NO GOOD, REALLY BAD DAY**

**Chapter 2 **

**by MySoapBox**

**Enter the Dragon**

Chuck had just finished moving the last of his boxes out to Sarah, who was strategically packing them into her ridiculously small car, when he heard a knock at the door of Casa Bartowski.

As soon as he opened it, his little bearded friend fell into his arms.

"I'm going to miss you so much!" Morgan cried. "I can't believe we're finally breaking up the team. What's Abbot without Costello? What's Donny without Marie? What's Lavern without her Shirley!?"

As usual, Chuck really wasn't sure what Morgan was talking about. But his friend was obviously upset, so he did his best to comfort him by awkwardly patting him on the back. "There, there Morgan, I'm just moving to Sarah's, it's not very far away."

Morgan let go of Chuck and his eyes lit up. "You're moving in with Sarah?"

"I thought that's what you were going on about."

"No man, I'm talking about me and Anna going to Hawaii. We're going to have a thousand miles of ocean separating us. I'll be Nemo without his Dory!"

"Morgan, all these analogies are starting to creep me out. And aren't you overreacting just a little? I know you wanted to go to Hawaii, but don't you have to like…get a job and buy airline tickets and all that first?"

"That's just the thing! We got tickets this morning. One of Anna's old boyfriend's friends had tickets that he bought for his anniversary, but then his old lady left him. He sold them to us for half the price!" Morgan was practically jumping up and down as he told of his good fortune.

"Wow," Chuck said, "This morning? Anna's old boyfriend's friend? That's quite a coincidence."

"Isn't it though!" Morgan said excitedly. "Anyway, the flight is in three days, and tomorrow night I promised Anna I'd go to a going away party with her friends, and the night after that my mom's cooking me a special family dinner – which you're invited to, by the way -, so that only leaves tonight, to hang out with my best buddy." He playfully punched Chuck on the arm.

"Tonight? Wow, Morgan, I'm pretty busy."

Morgan looked crest fallen. "Too busy for your best bud?"

"Don't worry Morgan, we'll get to see each other in the next few days. And after you go, well, it isn't like we'll never see each other again; you're just moving three time zones away, we can still e-mail and Skype and stuff, it's not like either one of us are going to…die or anything." Chuck swallowed hard and tried to smile.

Sarah, walked in the front door. "All packed," she called. "Oh, hey, Morgan."

Chuck shifted his weight nervously. "Hey, Sarah, Morgan here was just telling me that he and Anna are flying out in a couple of days and he wanted one last night for us to hang out together, but I told him that I was already planning on moving into your apartment tonight."

Morgan slid to his knees and clasped his hands. "Oh, please, Sarah! Let the Chuckster play with me! Just this one last time!"

"I guess you can," she said to Chuck. "If it's Morgan's last night and all. I can handle unloading your stuff myself; it isn't much." She smiled weakly.

"Oh thank you Sarah," Morgan kneed forward and wrapped Sarah around the legs. "You are truly a goddess among men."

Sarah extracted herself uncomfortably from Morgan's grip. "Um…maybe I should just go then. I have some things I need to do back at my place anyway."

"I'll…um…walk you to your car," Chuck said to Sarah. "Morgan, help yourself to something from the fridge."

As they walked to the Porsche, Chuck told Sarah about Morgan's fortunate coincidence in getting the tickets to Hawaii and Sarah promised to call it in. Sarah reassured Chuck that Casey would be right next door and would be listening in, so he should be perfectly safe.

At Sarah's car he said, "Look, Sarah, I'm sorry about this. I was looking forward to having some time to talk - just you and me."

"Me too. But you want to spend one last night with your best friend. I can understand that."

Chuck shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, I do. Thanks." He leaned in and gave Sarah a quick kiss on the cheek goodbye. "I'll see you later tonight."

As Chuck walked back to his apartment he heard Sarah's wheels squeal as she sped out of the parking lot.

***

Tommy watched his reflection in the window. He stretched his shoulders against the tight fit of the black jacket Stalker had supplied him. Even though it was a little small, anything was better than wearing a prison issued orange jumpsuit every day.

Once out of the Agua Caliente Desert he and the other Fulcrum agents had split into smaller groups with orders to rendezvous at the rescue team's rally point.

Stalker had insisted on staying with Tommy. He said that he had personally promised the man in charge to deliver Tommy safely to the meeting point. A surge of pride coursed through Tommy as he thought of it. Fulcrum needed him! His face twisted into a sneering smile; he was finally important again.

Month after month, he had been locked up in that underground dungeon and he hadn't heard so much as a whisper from Fulcrum. He knew they had people on the inside and he was a powerful man, a person with influence in the organization. So why hadn't they rescued him sooner? He shook the thought away. No matter. They wanted him now and he was anxious to get back in the game.

"How much longer? We're supposed to meet the others in less than an hour," Tommy grumbled.

Stalker merely grunted. "Not long now. In fact, we'll be there before you know it."

Tommy felt a small prick on the side of his neck. He automatically reached his hand up to swat whatever it was away when his fingers felt the cold thin shaft of a small dart. He moved his lips in the motion of a profanity, but the words didn't escape his lips before everything went black.

The next thing Tommy knew he was feeing someone nudging him awake. He felt sick to his stomach as he opened his eyes. There wasn't much light, just enough to make out the outline of Stalker with his weapon trained on Tommy's chest.

Tommy scrambled to his feet. "What the hell!"

A bright light shone in his face, blinding him. Tommy held his arm out in front of his face to shield his eyes.

"It's good to see you awake," a voice boomed over a speaker system. "I was afraid perhaps you'd gotten used to sleeping away your days while you were in prison," the voice chided him.

"Where am I?"

"You're among friends," the voice answered.

Tommy shot a dirty look in the direction of Stalker, who stood just close enough to be out of the shadows. "I thought I was, but it sure doesn't look that way now."

"Just a precaution, I assure you. If your previous employers had shown more caution you might still be working for them."

Tommy's squinted his eyes in the bright beam. He could see other shadows around him just out of the light.

"Previous employers…" Tommy muttered. "I thought I was meeting with the Fulcrum Governors."

"The Governors are no more, Tommy," the voice said. "As Fulcrum is no more. We had no further need of them."

Tommy's eyebrows slammed together "What are you talking about?" he demanded. "Fulcrum is the most powerful agency in the world!"

The microphone scratched and hummed as chuckling was heard in the background from both the speakers and the men around him. Tommy covered his ears at the noise. "Many things have changed while you were…on vacation. Fulcrum outlived its usefulness. They've experienced, shall we say, a reorganization?"

Tommy fought to focus his eyes. He could make out more of his surroundings now. He appeared to be in an empty area with a tall roof, a warehouse maybe? But the floor was finished wood. Maybe it was a studio of some kind. "Reorganization? By whom?"

"The Ring leaves its puppets alone, as long as they play their parts. Fulcrum has been a miserable disaster. An embarrassment!" The sound crackled loudly and the noise echoed off the walls. When the voice continued it was more controlled. "For two years they have failed their main objective: to obtain the Intersect. The Ring has now taken full control of this operation."

"The Ring?" Tommy asked "What the hell is The Ring?"

"Ah, so many questions Tommy, and you really are in no position to ask questions. There's only one question that should concern you right now. Are you ready to work for us, or shall Stalker clean up one last Fulcrum mess?"

Tommy looked around him. He estimated that he was surrounded by at least ten men and he guessed they were all as heavily armed as Stalker.

"What about Lizzy, Ned and Leader? What happened to them?"

"Loyalty! I like that," the voice responded. "Don't worry. They've been given the same choice you've been given."

_You mean no choice at all_, Tommy thought bitterly. "It looks like you're holding my strings for now, so I guess I'll dance," he said out loud, "if, you'll meet one condition."

"Tsk, tsk, Tommy, it's rude to put 'conditions' on our new relationship," the voice replied.

Tommy straightened his posture. "My first mission must be to kill Chuck Bartowski," he said boldly.

The microphone crackled again and in the distance he heard a man laughing. He heard footsteps and then a man stepped out of the shadows and extended his hand. "Well, In that case, my new friend, I think we can do business." The man's face morphed into a predatory grin. "But I warn you, this is not Fulcrum. We do not forgive failure."

"I understand." Tommy answered coldly.

***

Sarah looked over at the boxes that contained the meager few items Chuck had brought to 'move in' with her. They sat where she had tossed them unceremoniously that afternoon after Chuck dumped her to spend the evening with Morgan.

Morgan? A Benihana chef in Hawaii? Sarah would believe it when she saw it. The tickets were troubling though. She already reported the 'coincidence' to General Beckman.

She tried to look on the bright side; at least it gave her a chance to rearrange things in her one roomed apartment before Chuck's return later that evening. And she chuckled to herself as she thought of Casey, forced to listen to hour after hour of Chuck and Moran's chatter tonight. She had dodged that bullet.

She headed for the closet. It had been a while since she had lived with anyone. Chuck didn't need that much closet space, did he? He wouldn't expect half or anything. Because of all the different kinds of clothes required by missions, her closet was bursting at the seams as it was.

She started pulling out dresses to send to the dry cleaners. Maybe they could hold them for her until the current threat was over and Chuck moved back to Ellie's. Or maybe…until she and Chuck could get a bigger place of their own. Sarah sighed at the thought.

She wished Chuck was making a bigger deal of this moment. Sarah hadn't yet told Chuck, but if she got her way, he wouldn't be returning to Casa Bartowski - not for sleeping anyway. A normal couple would be spending their first night together drinking champagne and talking about their dreams for their future together. It was only another reminder that they were anything but a 'normal couple'.

Lately when they were together, Chuck only wanted to talk about Bryce and his feelings about his death. He would reminisce about good times they had had at Stanford together – 'before'. He often expected her to join in, to share her memories of Bryce. No, he wouldn't come out and say it, but there would be these pregnant pauses where he would look at her with his chocolate eyes and expect her to say something. She always had a thousand thoughts swirling around in her head at such moments, but she never knew just what were the right words to say, or if she wanted (or dared) to say something at all. As a rule, Sarah didn't talk about her feelings. Her words would never come out right. Sarah would rather risk leaving the important things unsaid then say too much.

The problem was that if she wanted this new relationship with Chuck, she knew she'd have to get used to sharing her feelings more openly. If anything, tonight was a witness to that. If he were here with her now, she wouldn't be talking about the escaped prisoners; she wouldn't be talking about strategy. In fact, if she had her way, they wouldn't be talking much at all. But Chuck didn't know that's what she wanted. How could she blame him for not knowing when she never told him?

Sarah pulled out the plum silk dress she had worn the evening of Ellie's beach wedding. The dress brought back so many memories. There was a moment there, with her toes in the sand, surrounded by people she loved, that things had become so clear to Sarah. In one glorious epiphanic moment everything she wanted in her life came into fine focus. Less important things, like her career, faded away, as only the image of Chuck standing there, with wedding rings in his hand, filled her view.

She shook her head and tossed the dress in the pile headed to the dry cleaners. If only Bryce hadn't been killed that night, she was sure that she and Chuck would have consummated their relationship. At least that's what she had been hoping for as she danced in his arms in Ellie's courtyard. She was going to tell him how she really felt and the flood gates finally would have been fully opened. If what had happened in the motel in Barstow was any indication, she was sure that nothing would have stopped the tidal wave of emotions that would have crashed over them. Sarah let the images of that blissful morning replay in her mind. As much as she tried to imagine a different ending, to mentally complete the fantasy, her thoughts always came back to the stark memory of her clamoring out a bathroom window into a filthy alleyway. Damn Casey! Damn Fulcrum! Damn them all!

She looked down and realized that she had twisted one of her favorite dresses into knots. She tossed it into the pile. Instead of living the fantasy, Bryce was gone and another Intersect was locked inside of Chuck - and Sarah was left with shattered dreams. Today she didn't even know what she was to Chuck. Things had definitely changed, but she felt like she was locked in limbo with no clear way to get what she wanted.

Satisfied at the small opening she had made in the closet - after all Chuck shouldn't need more than six hangers should he? - Sarah moved on to her dresser and started cleaning out the lower drawers that she hardly ever used. Pulling out a faded Stanford t-shirt her heart skipped a beat. She had forgotten that it was even there; the one thing of Bryce's she had left DC with. She held the shirt up to her face but it didn't smell like him anymore. She fought back the familiar wave of grief she had been feeling off and on since his death. Composing herself, Sarah pushed the thoughts aside and threw the shirt in the trash. Bryce was a good friend, and she'd always feel his loss, but that wasn't the life she wanted anymore.

Sarah sighed. Why was it that when she was finally ready to admit that she wanted a future with Chuck, it seemed like the possibility was immediately snatched away? Sarah cursed the new Intersect. Why were men always consumed by power and why did men like Chuck always have to bear the cost of that power? She both loved and hated Chuck for uploading that _thing_. He always dreamed of being a normal guy, but from their first date together, when she watched Chuck stop that bomb, she knew he wasn't normal. He had more hero in him than Bryce Larkin and Cole Barker combined. Maybe the fact that he took on the new Intersect was proof that he was finally seeing that in himself. Sarah sighed again. It was hard to fault a man for one of the many reasons you loved him.

Sarah's thoughts paused on those last words. It's as if the words 'loved him' yanked her back to reality. Twenty minutes had passed and she hadn't once thought about what she needed to do to protect Chuck. A handful of killers were on the loose and they were all gunning for the man she loved. She'd have to get her head in the game or she would never get a chance at that future she'd been fantasizing about.

Sarah slammed the empty drawer closed. Why did everything always have to be so complicated?

***

It was almost closing time at the Burbank Buy More and with Emmett gone home early, and no other established chain of command, Lester was left in charge.

Skip and Jeff stood in front of the large bank of plasma TV's expectantly.

"Here we go boys: I hold in my hand the master remote. And with this remote I am the master – of love."

"I sure hope this is better than the strip poker game last week," Skip complained to Jeff.

"Oh yeah," Jeff answered, "We're going back to the oldies-but-goodies tonight."

"Behold," Lester gestured his hands with a flourish. "Mammary TV on 12 big screens!"

Lester punched a button and the plasma TV's flickered to life showing the home made video Jeff and Lester had made last year of a plethora of female cleavage.

Jeff stood mesmerized, "I forgot how good this video was. We should put it on YouTube."

"Gentleman," a stranger's voice called out, "you'll never get a woman that way."

Lester turned around to see an older man approaching them. He wore a finely cut grey sports coat over a yellow silk shirt. As he came closer, Lester saw the green letters, "Buy More' stitched on the lapel.

"You're from corporate, aren't you?" Skippy said nervously. "You're here to fire us."

Jeff's eyes nearly popped out of his head and he pointed a finger at the stranger. "I know you. You're that old dude in the picture on the wall, that Moses Finkelstein who owns the Buy More."

"No, I'm afraid I'm not your prestigious owner, though I'm sure you flatter him by the comparison. I'm your new assistant manager."

Lester reached out his hand and grabbed the older man's in a hand shake. "It's so nice to meet you. And can I just say, it's an honor to be the first to welcome you to our humble store. We were…we were…just getting ready to close for the night." He looked to his two co-workers. "Weren't we guys?"

"Oh yeah," they quickly agreed and started for their various duties.

After a few steps Jeff turned to him and called out. "By the way, what's your name?"

The stranger had pulled out a matching yellow handkerchief and was wiping off his hands. "My name is Roan, but you can call me "Mr. Montgomery."

***

Sarah was standing in front of the bathroom mirror when she heard the soft click of the front door latch. Oh, good, she thought, Chuck was home from his gaming date with Morgan. "I cleared some closet space for you," she called out, "and emptied a couple of drawers."

When she didn't hear his normal snappy reply, she turned and saw a masked ninja spin and kick towards her.

"Not again," she groaned, as she deftly avoided the kick, returning one of her own towards the body of her attacker.

The ninja dodged and avoided Sarah's blow, returning a few body blows.

Sarah huffed as she took the impacts, spun and landed a kick of her own to the attacker's side. Those bruises wouldn't be pretty in the morning. The thought ticked her off.

The ninja charged Sarah, and Sarah deftly re-directed the ninja into the wall. The impact left a dent in the drywall. Shaking it off, the ninja grabbed a floor lamp and yanked it from the outlet.

Sarah threw several blows at the ninja's head, who blocked her blows with the lamp. Sarah took out the shade and popped the bulb but failed to strike her target. Frustrated, she grabbed the bar of the lamp and with sheer brut force ripped it from the ninja's grasp. She jabbed it and struck the ninja in the gut.

The ninja doubled over with an, "oof."

Sarah took the opportunity to snatch the gun from under her pillow. She approached her assailant, who was still doubled over in pain, her gun raised. "Hold it right there," she commanded.

With the grace of a dancer the ninja twirled in a blur and kicked the gun out of Sarah's hands with a quick follow-up strike across Sarah's face.

Sarah brushed her nose and saw blood smeared across her finger. Furious, she bodily tackled the ninja. It happened so fast and so suddenly that the attacker was caught unprepared. Sarah threw her full weight as she slammed the ninja to the floor. She heard the air whoosh out of the ninja's lungs.

Sarah moved her forearm against the assailant's neck and tore off the mask.

"Carina," she spat.

Carina tried to catch her breath. "Thanks for the extra closet space."

"Can't you just knock on the door like a normal person?" Sarah slid off of her and sat back, breathing heavily. "Why is it that every time you come into town we have to reenact _Enter the Dragon_?"

Carina got up on her elbows, taking another second to recover. "What are you talking about?" she asked in confusion.

"_Enter the Dragon_, the greatest kung fu movie ever made…" Sarah trailed off as she realized she was quoting Morgan.

Carina shook her head. "Sarah, you've got to get out of here. Now you're even starting to sound like those geeks you're protecting!"

"Nerds," Sarah replied defensively. "They're nerds, not geeks."

"Whatever." Carina rolled here eyes. "What happened to you Sarah? You used to know a good time when it kicked you in the face."

"Oh yeah, real fun," Sarah pointed at her split lip and waved around her apartment. "Do you know I can't even keep a goldfish because of you? Every time I get one, you kill it."

Carina sat up. "Sorry to mess up your nurturing practice. I'll buy you a new one; aren't they like a quarter a piece?"

Sarah wiped the blood from her nose. "That's not the point."

"Come on, Sarah. It's tradition. Just like old times." Carina reached out and slugged Sarah in the arm.

"I don't know if you remember or not, but our old times weren't so great."

"Aw, lighten up Sarah. We always made a great team."

Sarah stood. "If by 'team' you mean you getting into trouble and me cleaning up your mess, then I haven't forgotten." She reached down and helped Carina to her feet.

"Whatever."

Sarah caught and held the other woman's eye. "Thanks for coming," she said seriously. "We're going to need all the help we can get on this one."

"So I heard," Carina answered. "What's my assignment?"

"We have a briefing at oh-six-hundred. We'll see who's arrived by then and decide where best to focus our efforts."

"Sounds positively dreadful," Carina replied through an exaggerated fake yawn.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" Sarah asked, "Because I'm sure you could stay at the Castle."

"No, I'm staying here – with you and Chuck."

Sarah's stomach twisted at the thought. "Nice try, but I don't even have a couch."

"What? Afraid I'll be a third wheel?"

Sarah felt her face burn. "That isn't it at all…it's just…Chuck's a little freaked out right now, but I'm handling it."

"I'm sure you are," Carina deadpanned. "No, seriously Sarah, I already cleared it with Casey and the Grinch that runs the NSA."

"You talked to Casey?"

"Yeah, I called him tonight. Even with Chuck living here with you, you can't be with him every minute. The Grinch says Bartowski's safety is top priority. At least two agents are supposed to be with him at all times. So unless you want to start sharing a room with Casey…"

Sarah opened her mouth to argue but the agent in her could find only wisdom and logic in what Carina had just said.

"Hey, it'll be fun; like a sleepover every night." Carina smiled with an innocent look on her face. "Don't worry, Sarah. It's a big bed, I'm sure we'll all fit."


	3. Under Siege

_**Disclaimer: **__Good news! Authors Intersect has entered into negotiations to buy Chuck! Well, really, we just made a few phone calls. None of them have been returned yet, but we remain hopeful that NBC and Warner Brothers will return our calls soon… Until then Author's Intersect doesn't own Chuck. _

**CHUCK VERSUS THE TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE,**

**NO GOOD, REALLY BAD DAY**

**Chapter 3 **

**by Altonish**

**Under Siege**

"Okay, Buddy, it's time to go."

"What? Chuck it's only ten thirty."

"I know, but Sarah's waiting for me and I don't want her to worry."

"Why would she worry?"

"Just trust me, she worries."

"All right," Morgan sighed. He looked utterly and completely lost.

"I got you a little something though."

"For me?" Morgan perked up. "Is it half a locket?"

Chuck gave Morgan a quizzical look. "No, why would I…" He shook his head. "No, it's just a little something to help you with your career." Chuck reached under his bed and pulled out a brightly covered package.

"Wow, it's heavy," Morgan commented. He slowly tore the paper off to reveal a highly polished handmade wooden box. "Um…it's nice, but I'm not sure…"

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Open the box, Morgan."

He opened the case to reveal a set of Hibachi knives. Morgan gasped. "Oh, my…these are…these are..." Morgan took one of the knives out of the case.

"Those are incredibly sharp, Morgan, so please, please be careful. They were custom made by the knife master of Kyoto."

Morgan turned back to Chuck. "How… how did you do this?"

Chuck smiled slyly. "I have a very good friend that knows pretty much everything there is to know about knives."

"John Casey?" Morgan nodded.

Chuck laughed. "No, but you're close."

"Wow, Chuck— just wow. I don't know how you could even afford this. These are amazing."

"Just make sure to use them well, my friend."

Morgan put down the box and came over to crush Chuck in a giant hug. Chuck returned Morgan's embrace for a moment, but when he released the hug Morgan just kept clinging to him. "Uh, Morgan?"

"I don't know if I can do it, Chuck. I'm scared."

"Hey, come on, you'll be fine. You have Anna by your side now; you don't need me anymore."

Morgan continued hugging him. "It's not the same. I haven't been out there on my own since…"

"Morgan, we'll always be friends. You aren't alone; you and Anna, you're a team now. Don't forget that."

"Yeah." Morgan pulled back and cleared a little dust from his eye.

"All right, I have to go. Have a safe trip and I'll talk to you in a week or so."

"Wait, you're coming to dinner at my Mom's the night after tomorrow, right? You can even bring Sarah."

"Oh," Chuck winced. "I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to make it."

"Come on, Chuck, seriously. What else do you have going on in your life? It's not like you have a job."

"Right." Chuck pressed a finger to his lips. "But I do have a job hunt."

"You'd miss my going away party just to hunt for a job?" Morgan asked.

"No, of course not. I'll try to make it, I promise. Either way we'll talk soon."

Morgan nodded. "To adventure!" Morgan held up his knife case.

"May be both survive it," Chuck whispered, too quietly to be heard.

Morgan left via the window and Chuck went out to say goodnight to Ellie and Devon.

He was somewhat taken aback when Ellie crushed him with another giant hug, his second of the night. "Hey, calm down El, it's only for a couple weeks. I'll be back before you even miss me."

"Don't take this the wrong way, Chuck, but I hope not." Chuck gave Ellie a surprised look and she explained. "Look, I love you and you'll always be welcome here, but come on, this is it. This is the moment. I cannot believe you spent your first night of living with Sarah playing games in your old room with Morgan. I know you're slightly clueless when it comes to women, but how is it okay for you to spend your first night of living with Sarah playing video games with Morgan?"

"It was my last chance to hang out with Morgan. He's moving clear to Hawaii," Chuck replied defensively. "Besides, I know you just got married and you think everyone else is right on the verge too, but this isn't that big of a deal. Sarah and I just decided to give you and Devon a little space. It's only a temporary thing, not a major life changer."

"I talked to Sarah today. She's excited about this. This isn't a little thing to her and if it isn't a big deal to you, I really have to wonder if you love this girl. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life with Morgan instead of Sarah?"

"Ellie," Chuck shook his head. He tried to think of some way to make her understand that didn't involve telling her that he and Sarah weren't even really a couple. "It's not like I chose Morgan over Sarah. This was my last chance to spend quality time with Morgan. Sarah understands, trust me. I think she and I gave you the wrong impression. It's just some alone time for you and Devon. Enjoy it, because I'll be back soon and you'll be back to thinking you never have the place to yourselves."

"Do me one favor," Ellie asked before she let him leave.

"What's that?"

"Don't let Sarah know you don't think this is a big deal. I don't know what the two of you discussed, but when she and I were talking about it today, she was definitely excited. She didn't say it, but she is and if you aren't excited about it..." Ellie trailed off. "Well things like that ruin relationships."

"Okay, Sis, but you'll see. Sarah and I are both aware of what's going on. She made things pretty clear at the wedding."

"I really hope you're right, Chuck. For both your sakes, I hope you guys are communicating as well as you say you are."

***

Chuck reported over to Casey who gave him a ride to Sarah's. It was weird not having a car. Perhaps he should have saved some of his government pay packet to buy one. At the time it hadn't seemed important, but now that he didn't have a job… General Beckman hadn't really discussed salary considerations for his new position. Hopefully he wasn't only going to get paid when the mission ended. How would he live?

"You don't have to walk me all the way up to her room, Casey."

"Yes, I do."

"I'm perfectly capable of walking from the parking lot to her room by myself."

"Operation Zodiac, Numb Nuts - eyes on the target at all times. One of us always has to have our eyes on you. So, if I were to let you walk up to her room alone, then you wouldn't be guarded."

"When is everyone else getting here?" Chuck asked.

"What makes you think they aren't here already?"

"They're here?"

"Roan Montgomery is setting up our sting operation right now. Agent Forrest should be here soon. Nobody's quite sure when Cole is getting here, but he had the furthest to come. And well, Carina…" Casey snickered and pounded on Sarah's door.

It opened a moment later and Chuck knew immediately that something was wrong. Sarah's jaw was as tight as Chuck had ever seen it. That was usually reserved for when he hadn't stayed in the car. Was Sarah mad at him?

"Walker," Casey nodded.

"Hi Chuck. Hi Casey," Sarah greeted them. Her tone was light, but sounded forced.

Casey slapped Chuck hard on the back. "_You_ have a good night, Bartowski." Casey was chuckling as he walked down the hallway back to the elevators.

"What was that about?" Chuck asked.

Sarah just opened the door the rest of the way so Chuck could step inside. "I'm sorry I'm so late. I know we were supposed to talk, but Morgan..." Chuck trailed off. Sarah looked as uncomfortable as she did whenever Chuck started babbling at her in front of the fountain. "What's wrong?" Chuck asked.

Sarah jerked her head towards the center of the room, but said nothing. Chuck took one step into the apartment. "Carina." She was sitting Indian style in the center of Sarah's bed wearing her bathrobe.

"Hi, Chuck!" she said sweetly. "Have you missed me?"

Chuck's eyes rolled to the back of his head and his eyelids fluttered as the Intersect flooded his mind with updated information on Carina. "What are…What are…What are…" Chuck fiddled with his shirt. "What are you doing here Carina?" Chuck asked awkwardly. "Did I miss a memo?"

"They didn't tell you I was coming?" Carina pouted.

"No…they did," Chuck nodded. "It's just, why are you, _here_?" Chuck used both of his index fingers to point at his feet.

"We're going to be roomies!" Carina explained excitedly. "One big happy spy family!"

"It's true," Sarah explained. "General Beckman has decided that additional security is required. She's ordered that you should be watched by two agents at all times instead of just one."

"Well, that's _great_." Chuck grunted. "Carina, it's good to see you again. How was Mexico?"

Carina eyed Chuck suspiciously. "Still have that G7 clearance I see."

"Er, yeah, you know, still doing analysis." Chuck made little air quotes with his fingers.

"Actually, Chuck was just promoted," Sarah corrected him. "He's a full agent now."

"An agent?" Carina asked in surprise. "You've been to the Farm?"

Chuck shook his head and opened his mouth to answer when Sarah cut him off. "It was a field promotion, actually, based on Chuck exemplary field record."

"Wow," Carina replied clearly impressed. "Our little Chucky, who knew? Here I thought you weren't much of a spy."

"You should see Chuck's service record," Sarah replied. "Oh, that's right; _you _don't have a G7 clearance."

Carina glared at Sarah for a moment, then she untied the knot on her robe and slipped it off. "Well, I've had a long day. Are you ready for bed, Chuck?"

"Um…"

"It's okay," Sarah said from beside him. "I'll just sleep in the middle."

"Aw, what's a matter? Is Chuck shy?"

"I'll…I'll just sleep on the floor."

"Chuck, you don't have to do that," Sarah said stiffly.

"No, it's okay, I don't want us to all be cramped. I'd prefer it actually. Do you have an extra blanket?"

Sarah reached out and grabbed his forearm. "Chuck," she said. Her beautiful blue eyes were trying to communicate something to him, but he couldn't read it. He wished she would just say whatever was on her mind, but that wasn't Sarah. Chuck had tried to get her to open up about Bryce several times, and she never did. He tried to get her to open up about her feelings, but she'd just look at him with eyes full of longing.

"I don't mind sleeping on the floor," he said softly. "I think it will be more comfortable for everyone."

Sarah was clearly angry about something as she stomped around getting ready for bed. She came to bed in one of the most conservative outfits he'd ever seen. She was wearing his Nerd Herd shirt with the little running logo on the front. It came almost to her knees. Considering what she normally wore to bed when she was sleeping with him, Chuck had to wonder if this new conservative outfit was for him or for Carina.

It was certainly a mixed message. She was wearing _his _shirt. But she was showing way less skin than she normally did. Why would she care if Carina saw her? Carina obviously didn't care how much of her body Chuck or Sarah saw. Chuck had only brought boxer shorts and undershirts to sleep in, and sleeping there on the floor with a pillow and the one spare blanket the room was equipped with, he wished he'd planned ahead better. It was going to be a long…however long this took.

***

The young man ducked into the kitchen entrance of the Typhoon Dragon. The kitchen staff paid him little mind as they went about the business of cleaning up for the day. He slipped through a door and down a hallway to the private offices. The man stepped into the last office at the end of the hallway and bowed his head waiting to be recognized.

"Did your old girlfriend accept the tickets?"

"Yes, Uncle Ben."

"That is good. Does she still trust you?"

"I believe so. I do not think the authorities told her anything."

"Good. You have done well, my nephew. You will be compensated handsomely when we capture them in Hawaii."

"Yes, Uncle Ben."

They were silent for a few moments. The young man knew he had been dismissed, but he stood firmly where he was. After a good two minutes his Uncle asked, "Is there something else?"

"Please don't hurt Anna. You can make him suffer all you want, but please not Anna."

"I'll make you a deal, nephew. When we get what we want from his friend, you can have them both and decide what you want to do with them."

"Thank you, Uncle." The young man bowed and quickly walked out of the office, down the hallway, and out of kitchen. It was done.

***

Chuck heard scratching at the window. "Go away, Morgan."

A woman's voice answered in a whisper. "What was that?"

Chuck realized he was sleeping on Sarah's floor. He'd rolled so that he was slightly under her bed. "I heard scratching," Chuck answered.

Sarah was up in a flash, moving silently, her gun in hand. Carina was behind her by only a second. Chuck tried to move behind them, but Carina roughly pushed him back toward the bed. A shadow moved under the doorway and then the scratching returned. It was hard to see, but Sarah made some sort of motion with her hand. Chuck moved so that he could see the doorway in the vanity mirror. Sarah approached the door while Carina stood behind her, gun leveled, waiting for her to open it. Sarah counted down on her fingers 3... 2... 1…

She jerked open the door and pressed her body up against the wall. "Hello, boys, you looking for a good time?" Carina asked. The man who'd been attempting to pick the lock looked up at her in surprise. He lunged at her and she shot him straight through the chest. The man collapsed into her legs and she struggled to stay upright. The man's associate fired at Carina just as she toppled to the ground.

The round missed her and hit the window about a foot and a half in front of Chuck. He screamed. The distraction allowed Sarah to knock the gun out of the man's hand. He turned and fled. Sarah stepped over Carina and the fallen man and gave chase. "Sarah!" Chuck shouted after her.

He did the only thing he could think of: he ran after her, stopping only long enough to pick up the gun the man had dropped. "Chuck, wait!" Carina yelled after him. Chuck went left just in time to see the stairwell door slam shut. He ran to the stairwell and pushed it open with both hands. As he did so Chuck got a close look at the gun in his hand. He flashed.

A mallard duck.

A postman

Schematic for a Makarov PMM pistol

Instructions for field stripping a Makarov PMM

Reflexive experience of 1200 hours of time on the firing range

Instructions for firing a lightweight handgun while on the move

Instructions for factoring gravitational effect on bullet trajectory

An anatomy diagram showing the best stopping points for a bullet

A postman

A mallard duck

Chuck looked down at his hand. He suddenly knew not just how to fire a gun, but howto actually hit something. He knew almost everything there was to know about the gun, including that the sight was slightly off to the left. Chuck could hear people running down the stairs and started down them on his own. He'd take the first eight steps and then jump to the landing. It was awkward, but he was making up time.

"CHUCK! GOD DAMN IT!" he heard Carina yell after him. Chuck ignored her and kept running. He glanced down the stairwell quickly. Chuck could just make out the shoulder of the assailant. Sarah was three flights behind him and the man was increasing his lead. Chuck pulled his gun up and waited for the man to come around again. Then he fired.

The reverberation of sound was deafening. Chuck tried to plug his ears, but as he was still holding a gun, that was ineffective. When the noise died down he looked over the railing again, but didn't see Sarah or the man.

"Sarah?" Chuck cried. He took off down the stairs after her. He found her bent over the man, her gun trained on his forehead. The man had a badly bleeding wound right through the top of his shoulder. The blood was already beginning to pool around him.

"Chuck…" Sarah sputtered when she saw him. "What are you doing here!?"

Carina crashed down the stairs after him. Sarah glared at her. "Nice shot Carina, but I think you punctured his lung. He can't talk."

"I didn't shoot him." Carina shook her head. "That was Chuck. I guess you're a better field agent that I thought." Carina gave him a smile. "I bet he can talk. He probably just doesn't want to."

"Chuck?" Sarah looked at him.

Chuck shrugged and held up the gun. Sarah ripped it out of his fingers. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING!"

"I…uh…er…stopping him?"

"Chuck, that was incredibly dangerous. You aren't certified in small arms."

"Sarah, if he can make that shot, I'd say he's certified," Carina argued.

Chuck glanced over at Carina. She was still dressed in her nightie and she was standing over the man, who had a sickening smile on his face.

"Like that do you?" Carina said nastily. "How about this?" She took her bare foot and ground it into the wound in the man's shoulder. "Who do you work for?" she demanded.

The man screamed in agony. "I told you he could talk," Carina said smugly. "Now tell me, or it's only going to get worse." Chuck stared at Carina. He'd never seen her so…blood thirsty. She kicked the man's wound. "Tell me!"

A bellman stuck his head in the stairwell from the floor below the landing they were standing on. "Get an ambulance!" Sarah barked. The bellman stared at the two women in their night clothes and guy in his boxer shorts standing over a bleeding man. He was frozen. "Now, damn it!"

"If you want to live to see that ambulance, you'll tell me who you work for," Carina threatened. She once again stomped on his shoulder then put her full weight on him, practically standing on him.

"Carina—" Sarah started.

"Banachek," the man groaned.

Carina looked up at Chuck. "That mean something to you?"

Chuck closed his eyes and nodded. He was relatively certain he was going to be sick. Carina was covered in blood up to her knees.

"Well," Carina said sweetly. "I hope your peep show was worth it."

***

Tommy hated long car rides. Back when he worked for Fulcrum, he'd have commandeered one of their private helicopters fly to him to Los Angeles. He would have flown to LA, killed Chuck Bartowski, and been on a beach in Mexico by now. Instead he'd been sitting in this infernal car for eight hours. At least his new employers had been willing to lend him a sniper rifle. Now if only his oaf of a minder didn't blow the operation. Sniping was a delicate business and the last thing he needed was some brute looking over his shoulder.

Tommy was already growing tired of working for The Ring. It was all threats and keeping tabs on him. Tommy liked to work alone, or at least be in charge. This was ridiculous. If they weren't going to use him to his full potential, why did they even bother breaking him out of prison?

Suddenly, the car slowed. They were in some backwater town in the middle of nowhere Arizona. "Why are we stopping?" Tommy demanded.

"I'm hungry," his '_partner'_ replied.

"Oh, good grief," Tommy muttered. He definitely should have added some more conditions before agreeing to work for The Ring.

***

It was almost five in the morning when Sarah dragged Chuck to the Castle. Casey had eventually arrived and straightened things out with the police. Two women in their lingerie holding giant guns with no badges hadn't exactly been easy to explain. Sarah had used Chuck's Nerd Herd shirt to meticulously wipe down the Makarov PMM so Carina could put her finger prints on it.

Chuck was still confused about that maneuver, especially given Carina's rather violent episode in the stairwell. He hadn't had a chance to talk to Sarah about it. She'd immediately ordered him back to a holding cell. Chuck thought perhaps he was under arrest for shooting that man, but Sarah just insisted he try and get some sleep while she filled General Beckman in on the details.

After several hours of struggling to sleep, Chuck was contemplating giving up. Sarah wouldn't be happy, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw himself shooting the man and then Carina covered in the man's blood as she tortured him for information. Except then it wouldn't be Carina anymore, it would change to Chuck covered in the man's blood as he forced the man to talk. Is that what he was becoming? Someone cold blooded enough to hurt an injured man for information? Was that were this path led? At least Sarah wasn't like that.

The funny part was, while the images of shooting that man stayed fresh in his mind, the knowledge of how he did it was fading. He no longer remembered how to field strip a Makarov PMM. He was already forgetting the memories he had learned on aiming at a moving target. Chuck doubted very much if he had to make that shot now that he could do it. But the horror that he had done it - that wouldn't go away.

Chuck was still staring at the ceiling contemplating that, when a familiar face walked into his cell. "Hello, Kiddo," Roan said warmly.

"Roan, it's really good to see you." Chuck stood up and gave the older man a hug, which to his slight surprise, Roan returned unabashedly.

"I hear you had a rough night."

"You could say that."

"From what I hear, you did a remarkable thing. Collared the bad guy, found out who he was working for, kept your partners safe; that is very good spy work."

"I'm not sure I'm cut out to be a spy."

"When I first met you, I would have agreed. But I've seen you in action, Charles, and you are definitely a spy."

"What's with the getup?" Chuck asked. Roan was dressed in a yellow shirt and grey Buy More vest. A green tie completed his ensemble.

"You are looking at the new assistant manager of the Burbank Buy More."

Chuck laughed. "You're kidding."

"I never kid about my work," Roan replied. "Your friends are interesting fellows. I had a drinking contest last night with a man named Jeff."

Chuck's eyebrows flew up in surprise. "You went out with Jeff?"

"Indeed. That man is more in need of a good wing man than anyone I've ever met, even you."

"So who won?"

"I believe it was a draw, but to be perfectly honest I don't remember. I mostly remember waking up next to a very pretty young lady name Christine."

"How did they talk you into the Buy More?" Chuck asked.

"Your friends require protection. Plus, it's an excellent spot for a sting operation, just in case one of your enemies decided to try and track you down there."

Sarah poked her head through the hallway that led to the holding cells. "Chuck, we're ready to go whenever you are."

"Where are we headed?" Chuck asked.

"The NSA has decided that a neutral hotel would be safest. For right now, we're going to keep you moving, just so you'll be hard to locate."

"I don't know how you pissed off so many dangerous people, Charles," Roan said, slapping him on the back, "but I'm looking forward to the story."

***

Devon Woodcomb was not a man who was easily freaked out. He'd once reached inside a man's chest and used his hand to pump the guy's heart for a full five minutes before they could get his heart to restart. He hadn't even broken a sweat. However, the revelation that his brother-in-law was a spy had freaked him out pretty good. He'd always known that Chuck was _special. _He just never realized that he was the secret agent kind of special. To be honest, Chuck was geeky, awkward and clumsy - not exactly the type of man you expected to go toppling foreign governments. That said, he was relieved that Chuck had more going for him than just the Nerd Herd.

But the earlier revelation that Chuck's enemies had escaped and were out to get him... well, Devon was worried. Actual bad guys…murderers, bombers and traitors... were out to get Chuck. That might be cool if it wasn't so dangerous for Chuck and if it didn't risk exposing Devon's new wife to a life of danger. The possibility that some horrible person could come to his home looking for Chuck…well, Devon was definitely freaked out. So much so that earlier, to both his and Ellie's shock, Devon had turned down Ellie's offer of a little afternoon delight. She'd woken up from her nap feeling like a newlywed and Devon, who'd been completely unable to sleep, wasn't in the mood for the first time in his entire life.

Ellie had puttered around for a little while and then headed out to the grocery store. Now all Devon could do was stand in the kitchen staring at the front door. He nearly jumped out of his skin when someone started knocking. At first he didn't know what to do, but after they knocked for the third time, Devon slowly made his way over to the peep hole. There was a balding middle aged man standing on the far side.

Devon slowly opened the door. "Yeah?" Devon asked.

"Hello, Mr. Bartowski?"

"No," Devon shook his head. "He's not in right now."

"Oh." The man frowned. "Do you know when he'll be back?"

"I don't know, dude, he kind of took off with his girlfriend. Why don't you try back next week?" Devon started to close the door but the man reached out a hand and stopped it.

"Please sir, are you sure you don't know where I could find him? I'd like to speak to him about an important opportunity."

"Look, I told you, I don't know where he is."

"Perhaps I could wait for him?"

"I don't know when he's going to be back."

The man eyed Devon appraisingly. "Then perhaps I could talk to you about an awesome opportunity to improve your life?" The man had kind of a manic glint in his eye.

"I…I'm not sure, that's…"

"Sir, it will only take a few minutes and it could change your life forever."

"Look, dude," Devon started, but he was interrupted.

"I won't take no for answer!" the man insisted. Devon looked at the man and started to get worried. What if he refused and the man decided to do something to him instead and then Ellie…while he waited for Chuck? "Um, okay, just have a seat for a second while I make a couple of phone calls.

A wide grin broke over the man's face. "Sure, sure, take all the time you need. I'll just set up right here, shall I?"

Devon shot the man a look over his shoulder as he ran back to the bedroom. He fumbled with his cell phone and dialed Chuck's number.

***

Casey had been mostly silent during the trip to the hotel. He had his bags with him, so Chucked guessed he was moving, too. Carina was still at the hospital with the man Chuck had shot. She was guarding him until they could question him further and to make sure he didn't talk to anyone. For now it was Chuck, Sarah and Casey. Roan had gone to work at the Buy More. The other agents apparently hadn't arrived yet.

Chuck wasn't sure if he'd still be staying with Sarah or if he'd be bunking with Casey. When they checked in, however, Sarah hadn't even asked whose room Chuck would prefer to sleep in. So he still didn't know. Casey had a smirk on his face when Sarah announced, "Come on, Chuck, this one's ours." She handed a key card to Casey. "You're across the hall."

Casey took the key and walked into his room. Chuck swore he heard Casey singing. "A peanut sat on a railroad track, his heart was all a flutter…"

"Come on," Sarah said. Chuck realized that she was already in the room.

Chuck followed her in and realized there were two queen beds in the room. That made a lot of sense.

"Which bed do you want?" Chuck asked

"Why don't we take that one?" Sarah pointed to the far one.

"We?" Chuck asked.

"Don't tell me you'd prefer to sleep with Carina?"

"No…" Chuck scratched his head. "You're sleeping with me?"

"Please don't say you still want the floor," Sarah said in an agitated voice.

"Er… no, I didn't realize Carina was still sharing our room."

"It's protocol for now. She's was invaluable last night. You can't really argue with that." Sarah sighed. "I'm going to take a shower."

Sarah disappeared into the bathroom and when she came back out she was dressed in her normal bedroom fare, a short t-shirt and her underwear. "I'm going to take a nap," she declared.

"Sounds good," Chuck agreed. He sat and watched her for a couple of minutes but her eyes didn't close. There was something sad in her eyes. "Sarah, are you mad at me?" he finally asked.

"No, why would I be mad at you?"

"For shooting that man."

Sarah let out a long sigh. "Chuck, you didn't do anything wrong."

"Then why did you put Carina's prints on the gun?"

"Because the police are going to want to dust it for prints, since it was used to shoot a man. When we decided to tell them Carina made the shot, it was necessary to get your prints off it."

"But why tell them Carina did it?"

"You're supposed to keeping a low profile, Chuck. Showing up on a police blotter isn't exactly going to accomplish that. We were able to keep your name out of it, but if they thought you shot him, then that wouldn't be possible."

"Okay," Chuck nodded. He hesitated for a couple minutes as Sarah continued watching him. "Do you think I'm a bad person for shooting him?"

Sarah sat up and swung her legs off the side of the bed so she could look him directly in the eye. "Chuck, no, of course not; you did a good thing." Sarah kept looking at him; she seemed to be willing him to believe her.

"So, what are you upset about?" Chuck asked.

Sarah ran her fingers through her hair. "I've always tried to shield you from that part of this business. I don't want you shooting people. I don't want you to have to see Carina extracting information from people. Promise me from now on that if someone needs shooting, you'll let Casey or I do it."

"I don't want you to have to shoot people, either."

"Chuck, you're sweet, really, but I'm trained for this. You're not. And really, I don't want you to be. It changes you."

"You'd never…" Chuck started, but then trailed off.

"I'd never what?" Sarah asked.

"You'd never get information the way that Carina did, would you? I mean, you wouldn't –" Chuck couldn't bring himself to say torture. "Hurt them like that."

Sarah slipped off the bed and knee-walked over to where Chuck was sitting on the other bed. She looked directly up into his eyes. "Chuck, there's something you have to understand. There are no limits to what I'll do to protect you. I hope you can accept that. If it means protecting you…I'll do whatever I have to."

Chuck lowered his forehead until it was resting against Sarah's. They stayed like that until Sarah stood up again. "Come on, come take a nap with me. I know you're tired."

"Really?" Chuck asked.

"Yeah, come on," Sarah tugged on his hand.

Chuck grinned and started to remove his shirt. Right at that moment, his phone started ringing. Chuck flipped it over to see the caller ID. "Oh, Devon. This is not awesome."

"Hey, Devon, what's up?"

"All right, stay calm we'll be right there."

Chuck hung up his phone. "Devon says a strange man just showed up there looking for me. Devon told him I wasn't there but he wouldn't leave." Sarah was already pulling a pair of jeans on before Chuck finished explaining. In less than thirty seconds, they were pounding on Casey's door.

"Casey!" Sarah shouted "We have to go, condition red!"

Casey wrenched the door open. "Where?"

"Casa Bartowski"

"Damn it!" Casey shouted. "I knew we shouldn't have left it unguarded." The three of them went running down the hall to the stairwell.

***

"We'll check it out. _You_ stay here." Sarah gave Chuck a very stern look.

"Come on. Even with the new Intersect, we're doing the 'stay in the car' thing?" Chuck asked. "Maybe I can help!"

"Chuck, it's too dangerous. We have no idea what could be waiting inside. If something happens, get back the hotel, wait for Roan, Carina or Cole and Agent Forrest." Sarah gave him an imploring look and Chuck sat back down in the Crown Vic.

"Fine," he muttered.

Chuck watched as Casey and Sarah disappeared into the apartment complex. He rolled own the window and fiddled with Casey's radio. He couldn't believe the guy hadn't taken advantage of the two years he worked at the Buy More to have an IPod dock installed in this thing. It still had its stock AM/FM Cassette stereo. Chuck shook his head. It was pathetic really…

"Chuck," someone whispered. Chuck looked to the side of the road to see Jill hunched behind a bush waving at him. When she caught his eye she beckoned him over.

"Jill?" Chuck asked. He blinked his eyes a few times. No, Jill was still hunching behind a bush across the street from his apartment. "What are you doing here?"

Jill put one finger up to her lips and then beckoned him over again. Chuck wasn't sure what to do. Jill was a member of Fulcrum; she could be working with the escapees. Should he run inside and get Sarah and Casey? Should he drive back to the hotel? "Chuck, come on," Jill insisted.

Chuck looked around, but he didn't see anyone else. He slowly walked towards the bush Jill was hiding behind. Jill had moved away from the bush, apparently, because there was nobody there. "Chuck, over here."

"Jill?" Chuck called. "What's going on?"

"I came to help you," she said. Her head popped out from behind a wall. "Come on, we have to stay out of sight. If your handlers see me…"

"Jill if this is a trap…" Chuck warned, although he had no idea what he'd do if it was a trap. "I know Kung Fu," Chuck tried.

"Really?" Jill's head popped around the wall to look at him. "That's so cool! When did you learn?"

"Er…recently."

"Well, that's great, I'm glad you're learning something to help defend yourself. I was never much of one for fighting, but you do what you have to in this world." Jill reached out and dragged him behind the wall and she squatted down. "Listen, you're in danger. A lot of the people Fulcrum lost while searching for Bryce are on the loose and something tells me you had something to do with catching them the first time."

"I know, we found out yesterday. How did you find out?"

"I have a…" Jill worried her bottom lip for a moment, "...friend in the CIA. She called me this morning, because I'd asked her to keep an eye on certain things. Leader's incarceration was one of them… But he isn't the only one that escaped; there's a lot of them. They could be coming back here, Chuck; we have to get out of here."

Chuck shook his head. "Why are you even here? Aren't you supposed to be on the run?"

"Chuck, you aren't safe. I couldn't just leave…"

"I've got Sarah and Casey. They'll make sure I'm okay."

"You can't trust them." Jill shook her head.

"Of course I can trust them. They've been watching out for me for a long time. I trust them completely."

"Chuck, the people you put away didn't just escape. The CIA let them go. It was an inside job. People in the CIA gave the information to whoever is running Fulcrum now, so they could break them out."

"_What_?" Chuck said, the disbelief heavy in his voice. "No way, the CIA is protecting me. They've been protecting me for years."

"Chuck, the CIA and the NSA aren't playing together nicely anymore. Some high level CIA operative got killed while working for the NSA. The NSA has been completely mum about what happened. Apparently there were some CIA assets that had been on loan during that previous mission and the NSA didn't give them back… I'm kind of assuming that's your handler."

"How could you possibly know all this?"

"I told you. I have a very _good _friend in the CIA. She says the CIA is tired of the NSA using them for doing all the manual labor and then taking all the credit. With the new Presidential administration, all that matters are results and the CIA is being made to look bad. My friend doesn't know where the blowback is coming from, but it's from a really high level. One of the agents they're supposedly sending to protect you is actually supposed to capture you. One of your handlers is in the CIA. Chuck you're in the middle of a pissing match between the CIA and the NSA. You can't stay here; it's not safe."

"What?" Chuck sputtered. "Which one of the people they sent?"

"My contact doesn't know the name."

"Jill!"

"I don't know! Just come with me. We'll take a runner. I've got some money, a safe house, and a clean car. I promise they won't catch us."

"I can't do that."

"Chuck, please, I owe you and I don't want you to get hurt," Jill begged.

"I trust my handlers completely, Jill. They wouldn't let anything happen to me."

"You can't trust spies, Chuck. They all lie; they're all the same. I'm here for you."

"Chuck!" Chuck heard Sarah's rather panicked voice call.

"I have to go. If you want to help me, get me the name of person your friend thinks has been turned. Otherwise, just stay safe," Chuck whispered.

Chuck stood to walk back to the car, but Jill grabbed him and pulled him back down. She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight. "You stay safe too." She kissed him on the cheek. "I'll do whatever I can to make sure you stay safe."

"Casey!" Chuck heard Sarah yell. "Chuck's GONE!"

"I'm right here," Chuck announced. He motioned at Jill to stay down and strode out from around the bush.

"Chuck, thank, God." Sarah was clutching her chest. "Just once, do you think you could just stay in the car? You scared the hell out of me!"

"Sorry," Chuck replied sheepishly. "I was feeling kind of exposed - sitting in the car, parked on the street. I went to find more cover."

Sarah sighed deeply as she grabbed Chuck by the forearm. She seemed to just be making sure he was real. "Sure," she muttered. "Just tell us first next time." Chuck nodded. "Come on, we've got the guy at Casey's place. He claims he's just here to sell you ShAmway. I want to see if you flash on him; if not, it looks like maybe Devon panicked just a bit. We need to be more careful about what we tell him."

Sarah led Chuck back to Casey's apartment where a man was handcuffed to one of Casey's kitchen chairs. "Did you flash?" Sarah asked him.

"It doesn't always work like that," Chuck explained. "Sometimes it's a tattoo or a scar that sets it off."

"Should we strip him naked?" Casey asked.

Chuck recoiled in horror. "No!"

"Who are you people?" the man whined.

"I'm Chuck…" Chuck started.

"No talking to the prisoner," Sarah barked.

"Prisoner?" the man squeaked. "I just came here to help Chuck make a little extra money. My friend Jeff said he was a little down on his luck after quitting his job at the Buy More. I thought I could help him make ends meet."

"How?" Casey asked suspiciously.

"By working for one of the world's largest companies. They make everything from baby formula to motor oil—"

"ShAmway," Casey grumbled.

"Er…well, yes," the man nodded. "It's a terrific company and in just a few short months all of you could be making serious money working right out of your homes!"

"What's your name, mister?" Chuck asked.

"Stanley Cooms," the man replied. "My friends call me Stan. Would you be interested in attending an informative meeting this Thursday?"

"Stuff it, Cooms." Casey ordered. "You'll be lucky if you aren't locked in a underground cell by Thursday."

Stanley's eyes got wide and he took a noticeable gulp. Chuck pulled out his phone and dialed Jeff. "Hey, Jeff, it's Chuck."

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Oh, I'm sorry…"

"Well…"

"No…"

"I don't…"

"Jeff, I'm sorry that the Buy More sucks without Morgan and I, but there's nothing I can do about that! You guys are just going to have to find some way to live with Emmett or go get new jobs."

"I don't know, anywhere."

Casey snapped his fingers to get Chuck's attention and indicated that he should wrap it up.

"Look, Jeff, do you have a friend by the name of Stanley Cooms?"

"I don't care if you'd call him a friend or not, did you give him my address?"

"Yeah, well don't do me anymore favors, please?"

"Yes, Jeff, I'm sure the new assistant manager is really cool…"

"Jeff, I don't want to hear about that…"

"Jeff, stop…"

"That's disgusting..."

"I really can't go out with you guys…"

"Jeff, I have to go…"

"I'm sorry about your bathroom breaks, but what do you want me to do?"

"I quit, Jeff. Why would Emmett listen to me?"

"Really, he's depressed?"

Casey's face was turning purple, so Chuck told Jeff. "Look, I'll talk to you guys later okay. I need to go. Bye."

Chuck hung up the phone. "Jeff did tell Stan about me. His story checks out."

"Story?" Stanly said indignantly. "You thought I was lying about ShAmway?"

"You're right," Casey agreed. "Nobody, no matter how crazy, would ever admit to working for ShAmway."

"Let's cut him loose and get him out of here."

"I'm gunna call the cops!" Stanley shouted.

"Go ahead," Sarah shrugged. "But if you do, you'll probably go to jail for interfering in a Federal investigation."

"What?"

"Does this look like a yogurt shop, Stan?" Sarah waved around at the electronics in Casey's apartment. "You tell anybody anything about what happened here today and we'll come down on you hard." Sarah voice became sugary sweet. "Trust me, Stan, you don't want that."

***

"So can we still acquire the plutonium or not?"

"Yes, Madam, but the cost would be devastating to our other business interests."

The woman's eyes flashed in anger. "I don't care about our other business interests."

"With respect, Madam, this was your father's company. You can't just throw away everything he built on some plot for revenge." The woman turned and faced him fully. He recoiled a bit. She had always been a beautiful woman, but eighteen months in an underground cell had changed her. Her hair was heavily streaked with grey, her cheeks hollow, and her skin had an unhealthy yellow tinge to it. The charm she learned in the schools her father forced her to attend was all but gone. She was little more than a mad woman.

"My father is dead. The empire is mine now and I will use its resources any way I see fit. I made an agreement with The Ring to kill Chuck Bartowski. They didn't specify how I was too do it and I intend to make sure the United States pays for locking me away like an animal."

"Please, I served you father for so long…don't do this. This was not his way. He believed arms trading to be an honorable and gentlemanly endeavor. I watched you grow up and I know how much you cared about him. Don't dishonor his memory with your vendetta," the man begged.

The woman turned to him with a sickening smile and stalked towards him. For the first time in his life, he was afraid of Lana Ciudad. She had the same look on her face from when she was six and fired the maid because she wouldn't play pony. "Mr. Walters, I must thank you for taking such good care of my company while I was away. But if you love my father so much, perhaps you should join him?" She pulled her Sig P220 from behind her back and pointed it at his forehead.

"Lana, please, don't do this. I've served you loyally for years. You've always respected my opinion and I was giving you the best guidance I could. There is no reason to kill me."

La Ciudad gave him a hard look. "Very well, but know this: I'm running this company and if you value your life, you will get me the plutonium and the bomb before the week is out. Chuck Bartowski is going to die and Los Angeles is going to burn, or your head is going to roll."

"Of course, Madam." Trevor Walters scrambled from the giant study and headed for his much smaller office down the hall. Obviously, Lana had gone insane. Unfortunately, until he could find something to do about it, he'd have to follow her orders. The company was loyal to Lana and so he would have to be as well, for now.

***

Sarah, Chuck and Casey spent almost thirty minutes making sure they weren't being tailed before they headed back to the hotel. Going to Casa Bartowski had been dangerous. The bad guys had already found Sarah's apartment and many of the escapees knew Chuck worked at the Buy More. It wouldn't exactly take a rocket scientist to find Chuck's address. There was supposed to be an NSA team guarding the apartment, but Casey said they hadn't arrived yet. He'd been guarding it himself, until the midnight attack on Sarah's apartment. Chuck had to be his priority; when Chuck was safe again, Ellie and Devon would be safe again. Chuck asked Casey to check again as to when the team to protect Devon and Ellie would be arriving. Chuck wanted to stay, but Sarah and Casey had both vetoed that option. It just wasn't safe. They needed to get him somewhere less exposed.

Sarah's gaze travelled over to Chuck. She could see the worry lines on his face. Bryce had been right about one thing. Chuck had too good of a heart for this kind of work. Maybe when they got back to the hotel they could finally talk. Then again, Sarah sucked at talking, so she'd probably try and end up sitting there silently wishing Chuck could just read her thoughts. Sarah let her head slip back against the head rest of the Crown Vic. She was so pathetic. Why couldn't she just tell Chuck how she felt? 'I love you' shouldn't be that hard to say. It had been right on the tip of her tongue for weeks. Chuck had given her at least a dozen openings, and still she was making him guess.

If General Beckman hadn't insisted on the two agent rule, she'd just come to bed naked tonight. That might clue him in. It wouldn't be the most mature way to handle it, though. Sarah continued watching Chuck's face from the side. She wanted to reach out and stroke his hair, but she restrained herself. Soon enough they'd be back to their new hotel room and with Carina off watching guarding the assassin Sasha Banachek had sent after them, maybe they could get a little time alone before she came back.

Chuck, Sarah and Casey traveled silently up in the elevator. "Check in at 16:00?" Casey stated as much as asked.

"Sounds good," Sarah agreed.

Casey walked to his room across the hall from Chuck and Sarah's. Well Chuck, Sarah and Carina's. Sarah shook her head. Stupid interloping ex partners. Didn't any of her partners want her to get together with Chuck? Sarah scanned her card and swung the door open; she took two steps into the room before she realized Cole Barker was combing his hair in front of her dresser, wearing nothing but a towel.

"Darling!" Cole exclaimed. "I thought you'd never arrive! You're even more beautiful than I remember."

"What are you doing here?" Sarah growled.

"Well, that really nice Diane Beckman rang me up and said that you needed me. Well, I got here as soon as I could, of course; anything for you, Love."

"No, what I meant was: why are you standing in my room in your towel?"

"I don't need the towel," Cole replied defensively. "Chuck be a dear and get the door on your way out, would you?" Cole reached for the towel around his waist and Sarah pulled out her gun and pointed it at him.

"HANDS AWAY FROM THE TOWEL!"

"Ah, Love, don't be like that. I just flew clear across the world to be with you and the hotel didn't have any more rooms. I knew that you wouldn't mind if I bunked in here with you, so here I am. I have to say I've missed you."

Sarah could feel Chuck shrinking behind her, the confidence he'd gained in their relationship over the last few months ebbing away. He was going to flee. "I'll just, I'll go. I'll go and hang out with Casey and you guys can…you know…whatever."

"Chuck, no!" Sarah reached behind herself. Just from the sound of Chuck's voice, his mood, and the height she had spent so much time memorizing she was able to snatch Chuck by the wrist without even looking. If she knew him that well, couldn't Chuck tell who she preferred? She kept her gun squarely on Cole. "This is your room too, Chuck. Cole can go bunk with Casey."

"Your room?" Cole asked. "Are you two…" He pointed a finger at each of them and then waved back and forth.

"No, it's not like that," Chuck replied. "Well, not exactly like that."

Sarah turned and looked at Chuck for the first time. She turned back towards Cole. "It's a little like that."

Cole scratched his head. "A little, like what?"

"It's not important. You can stay with Casey until we get you a room of your own." Sarah tucked her gun away. "And you can keep that towel."

"Americans." Cole shook his head. "You make such terrible hosts." Sarah reached for her gun again and Cole put up his hands. "Fine, fine. I'll go visit with agent Casey. If I'd known this was the greeting I'd get, I'd have just stayed in Paris." Cole stopped to pick up his bag before he headed across the hall. Sarah closed the door behind him, but even with the door closed she could hear Casey laughing in the hallway.

Sarah sighed and slumped on the bed. This was such a mess. She glanced over at Chuck to find him staring at her. "What?" she asked.

"We're a little like that?"

"Well, aren't we?"

"I don't know, I mean at the wedding you were all ready to leave. I kind of assumed that meant we weren't like that."

"I wasn't leaving."

"You said you were leaving."

"Well, I was wrong," Sarah huffed. "I was confused, okay? I'd just been reassigned somewhere else and I was having a hard time trying to figure out what I was going to do."

Chuck nodded. "Okay, so we're sort of …what exactly?"

Sarah ran her fingers through her hair. "I don't know. But we're enough of something that Cole shouldn't be running around my room in his towel making sexual innuendo and using cheesy pickup lines."

"Um, that's pretty much what Cole does. You know, that and getting shot a lot. Oh, and shooting things. He likes shooting things."

"He's a good agent and we can trust him. He'll help protect you. The rest of it, I could really live without."

"So you really think we have something?"

"You don't think so?" Chuck's question hurt a little. Did he really not know there was something going on between them?

"No, no, it's just... Well you've always been pretty adamant that while I'm the Intersect that we couldn't…_be_ something."

"Yeah, I know. But in my defense I didn't know that after we got it out, you were just going to keep sticking it back in your brain."

Chuck laughed lightly and sat down on the bed next to Sarah. "So what's all this mean for us?"

Sarah reached out and put her hand on top of Chuck's, interlinking their fingers. "I honestly don't know. I don't know what the rules are now. But I do know that you aren't an asset anymore." She leaned towards Chuck and he leaned towards her. Sarah closed her eyes as the gap shorted between them. Then for five long, agonizing seconds, nothing happened. Sarah stomach started to churn. _What was wrong? Why wasn't he kissing her? _Then he was kissing her and the worry, stress, and trouble drifted away as Chuck's lips carefully danced across hers. She reached out for him intending to close the rest of the distance between them, but when she moved, Chuck pulled back. Sarah's eyes popped open and she gave him a questioning look.

"Sorry," Chuck whispered. "I have to tell you something first. Something you aren't going to like very much."

"What is it?" Sarah asked, anger already creeping into her voice at Chuck's warning. What could possibly be keeping them apart now?

"I saw Jill today…"

"WHAT?" Sarah exclaimed. "HOW…WHY…WHY DIDN"T YOU TELL ME?"

"I am telling you," Chuck motioned for her to calm down, which only made her angrier.

"Chuck, Jill is a fugitive from the United States government. The people you now work for. You have a duty to arrest her on sight."

"Sarah, we can't arrest her."

"Chuck we don't get to chose who the criminals are! She's a member of a criminal organization that sought to destabilize the United States."

"_Please_, she was imprisoned on an obstruction of justice charge. She didn't do anything criminal. Jill helped me save those people… She helped me save Casey."

"She was complicit in infecting Casey!"

"Jill didn't have to save him or me."

"She tried to kill me!" Sarah yelled.

Chuck ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I know, and I'll never forgive her for that. But she helped me find my father."

"What? How?"

"When you were pinned down in the firefight, she came and found me. She helped me when I was struggling with that Fulcrum agent, the one that…fell." Chuck's voice choked slightly.

"There wasn't anything you could have done to save him, Chuck. You said you tried."

"I know…" Chuck shook his head to clear it. "Jill kept me from falling over with him. Then she helped me find my father's cell. We were too late, but she was the one that knew where they were taking him. Jill is the one that told me we could find him at Black Rock. She didn't know where it was, but she knew the name."

"If she was with you, then how did she get away?"

"I let her go."

Sarah stared at Chuck dumbfounded. "You let her go? The woman that betrayed you twice, the woman who tried to kill me, the woman that… Oh, my, God, you're still in love with her," Sarah gasped.

"No," Chuck said reflexively. "It's not like that. I care about her, sure, but I don't love her anymore. She heard about the breakout; she came to warn me. She wants to help me."

"How very gracious of her," Sarah retorted bitterly.

"Sarah you have to listen to me. Jill has a source in the CIA. The source told her that one of the agents sent to protect me is supposed to capture me. The source didn't know which one it was and I don't know what's going to happen when they do. But it didn't sound good."

"Of course Jill said that, she's manipulating you into not trusting your protectors, so you'll go out on your own and get yourself killed. We're here to protect you, Chuck."

"Sarah, I know you're here to protect me. But Carina, Agent Forrest, Roan and Cole... How do we know for sure if we can trust them?"

"Chuck, you are honestly the most trusting person I know. Are you really saying you think one of them has turned on you?"

"I don't know what to tell you, Sarah. I think Jill is on the up and up. You don't know her the way I used to. Fulcrum manipulated her, but she's not an evil person. Bernie threatened her family if she didn't do what they asked. Her task was just to work for Guy Lafleur and pass his findings to Fulcrum. She was qualified for the job and she was never asked to hurt anyone until we came along. What would you have done in her position, let them kill your family?"

"Chuck all I have is my Dad…I can't really compare—"

"Exactly," Chuck exclaimed. "But when your Dad needed you, you walked into a dead end with no real viable way of winning. You did it because you'd do whatever it took to protect him. Jill isn't any different; she protects the people she cares about."

"So you're a 100% sure about this?"

To Sarah's surprise Chuck shook his head. "No, come on, it's Jill. How can I ever be a 100% sure about her? But I'm sure enough that I don't think we can fully trust the others. Even if I'm wrong and Jill's trying to drive a wedge between us…the best option we have is to be cautious. I never completely trust anyone but you. Isn't that how this works?"

Sarah gave Chuck a small smile. "We have to tell Casey."

"Sarah, we can't. He won't understand about Jill."

"Chuck, Casey is our partner; we can't keep this from him. We need his help. Besides, look what happened the last time we cut Casey out of the loop. We just have to trust that he'll be able to understand the situation."

"I don't know…"

"We can't beat everyone alone, Chuck. What choice do we have?" Just then Sarah's phone started ringing. "It's Roan," she explained.

"Hi," Sarah said.

"Let me put you on speaker."

Roan's voice came over the line as Sarah put her phone on the nightstand. "Yes, one of the dissatisfied customers on your list… I think he just walked into the Buy More."

"What does he look like?"

"A large, bald, black man, six nine, maybe three hundred pounds. A little imposing."

"Mr. Colt," Chuck and Sarah said immediately.

"Casey and I will be there to back you up as soon as possible. Don't engage him unless he threatens to hurt someone in the store. Do you understand?"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Roan said silkily. "See you soon!" Roan hung up the phone.

Sarah started moving towards the door. "Chuck you're going to stay here with Agent Barker. Casey and I will go help Roan."

Sarah had her hand on the door when Chuck asked. "But what if Cole is the mole?"

"Damn it," Sarah exclaimed.

"Look you and Casey can't go charging into the Buy More anyway. Just take Barker with you He's great in these situations. You can pretend you're still working at the Orange Orange."

"That's good," Sarah nodded. Chuck's eyes got large as Sarah started taking off her clothes. "Well don't just stand there staring at me, go brief Casey and Barker. I have to change into my uniform."

_A/N: A big thank you to My Soap Box for the beta work on this chapter. Betaing anyone's ten thousand words is a big job, but betaing ten thousand of my words? That's a huge job. On the plus side she's still speaking to me…at least I'm pretty sure. _


	4. The XFiles

CHUCK VERSUS THE TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE,

NO GOOD, REALLY BAD DAY

Chapter 4

by Poa and Truthseekr

The X-Files

_KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!_ Chuck's knuckles rapped against the door to the hotel room across the hall. The shorter, debonair lothario answered, this time wearing more than a towel.

"Good to see you're dressed, because as much as I hate saying this..." Chuck started, while making his way into the room.

"You like seeing him in a towel?" Casey said, just under his breath, but loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. He sat on the couch cleaning his gun.

Chuck turned to Casey with a look of disgust, "Noooo." He turned back to Agent Barker and sighed, "Sarah needs you."

Casey turned with newfound interest.

"Ah! Very good." Cole remarked.

"Don't forget your gun," Chuck told him.

"I always carry a gun," the Brit responded. Casey snarled to himself; he couldn't believe that the pretty boy had taken _his _line.

Cole exited the room and Casey went back to cleaning his Desert Eagle. Chuck looked over at him on the couch and considered what to say for a moment. He knew he needed to tell Casey about Jill but he just didn't know how that conversation would end without the Colonel inflicting bodily damage on some non-essential body part. Chuck plopped himself down in the chair across from Casey by the window. Instead of looking outside, however, Chuck stared at the room's only décor: a large, framed picture featuring a pair of cardinals perched on the limb of an apple tree.

Casey looked up for a moment and noticed the uneasy look on Chuck's face as he stared at the print on the wall. He knew the nerd had something on his mind. Hell, he had a lot _in_ his mind. Casey still couldn't understand how Chuck was able to perform back flips while fighting hordes of trained killers, how he could fire and disassemble pretty much any firearm on command, and God only knows what else. The geek had been through so much lately; he watched Larkin die, he re-Intersected himself, he found out that nearly every criminal he had helped put away was now on the loose, and he had even shot a man. Frankly, he was surprised that Chuck hadn't already broken down with his lady feelings into a sniveling pile of useless flesh.

"Alright, out with it Bartowski." Casey had had enough. He never realized how much he might actually prefer the babbling nerd to the Bartowski Silent Treatment.

"I saw Jill."

"What? Where?" Casey sat up and glared at him.

"I know, I know," Chuck said, looking down. "It doesn't matter where. What matters is that she had a message for me. She said that someone in the CIA helped those criminals escape. She claims that the CIA has a mole among us. If she's right, it could be Roan, Carina, Cole. . . anyone. She says that whoever it is... the plan is to capture me and allow full control of the Intersect to remain exclusively with the CIA."

"That doesn't make sense. Carina's with the DEA. Barker's, well, we know who Barker works for. Besides, the CIA is a full partner in this project. As D.N.I., Beckman heads both agencies. How do you know this isn't a ploy by Jill to capture or kill you?"

"Well, if that was her goal, I'd have already been captured or killed by now. She had the perfect opportunity while I was outside my apartment."

"That's why you were hanging out in the bushes? Thought you could get a little..."

"Casey!" Chuck cut him off.

The Colonel grinned; ribbing the nerd was just too easy, even after two years on this assignment. He dropped his smirk and said, "Listen Chuck, you need to be more careful. I know you think you can trust Roberts…"

"Casey, I don't trust Jill." He knew that Casey wasn't buying it. "Okay... not entirely."

Casey snickered and then nodded his head slightly, "But it still makes no sense... Unless she's just manipulating you." Casey picked up his chamois cloth and turned his attention back to his weapon.

"I've been thinking about that," said Chuck, leaning forward in the chair. "Let's assume, and yes, I know it's a pretty big assumption... but what if there are Ring agents working in the high-level ranks of the CIA? I mean we don't know anything about them, do we? We don't know their motivations, their hierarchy, or even what they like on their pizza."

"This isn't a joke Chuck." Casey's eyes stayed on his weapon.

"I know Casey, I was just checking to see if you were listening."

Casey grunted, so Chuck knew it was safe to continue. "For all we know, they could be using Fulcrum as a long-range weapon of sorts." Chuck stood up. As he looked outside, he reached up and drew a circle in the condensation of the window. "This isn't about the CIA wanting me; they already have me. This is about the Ring."

Casey put down his gun. "So we assume that the Ring has penetrated the highest ranks of the CIA?"

Chuck nodded.

"It's like they say, you can't trust an agency that has the word 'intelligence' in its title." He chuckled and then looked back at Chuck. "You're not going to tell Walker that one, are you?"

"You crazy? She'd probably put you _and me_ through your new coffee table," Chuck joked.

"Yeah, good thing I remembered not to get a glass one this time," Casey said. "I spent half the night pulling glass shards out of my gluts."

"What's wrong? You gettin' soft, Casey?" Chuck half-kidded.

"No." He winced. "Let's just say my 'ass' knows better than to come between you and Walker again."

Chuck couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was the old Sugarbear telling him to 'go for it' with Sarah, and that if he did, he wasn't going to report them? Chuck couldn't help but smirk. But the smile on his face wasn't just about his bond with Sarah; it was about his relationship with Casey. He now knew that there was nothing that would ever come between him and Sarah _and Casey._

"We're a team." Chuck smiled.

"Yeah, well , if we learned anything from Captain Miles, it's that any team can be infiltrated," the Colonel said dryly. "We really can't trust anyone."

"I trust my family—Ellie, Awesome, Morgan, Sarah, and... I trust you Casey. Without question."

Casey sat quietly, his gaze unfocused, taking in Chuck's statement. This revelation wasn't a small thing in light of their recent falling out.

"So what do we do?" Chuck asked, searching for some sort of response from the tough guy.

"I wish we could handle this ourselves—just the three of us. But the truth is, we need help rounding up all that Fulcrum scum."

"Are you sure, Casey? I mean, you and Sarah are, well... badass, and I have acquired some… _new skills_." Chuck tried hard not to sound as lame as Napoleon Dynamite when he said it, only he really was a nerd at heart.

Casey raised his eyebrows. "New skills, huh? Outside of weapons training and Kung Fu, we don't know what _skills_ are hidden within that skull of yours. And you can't control which skills surface, or when."

Chuck knew Casey was right.

"No, we need the manpower. But, this shouldn't be too tough; I've never worked with anyone I actually trusted."

"So, trust no one."

"That's right Agent Scully," Casey responded, surprising the nerd.

"Wait, why do I always have to be the girl?"

"Speaking of the girl, you let Walker be alone with Agent Libido?" Casey quipped.

"Oh, he's not alone. He's probably got his hands full taking down Mr. Colt and his gang of thugs at the Buy More," Chuck half-kidded.

"Why didn't you say anything?" said Casey, rising quickly. He grabbed his gear and headed for the door. "Let's go."

"What? You don't want to miss any gun play?"

***

Sarah slid her Porsche to an abrupt stop behind the Orange Orange.

"Splendid," said Cole, getting out of the car. Sarah pulled her bulletproof vest out of the back and handed one to Cole.

"Why, I didn't think you cared, Agent Walker."

Sarah rolled her eyes as she strapped on the vest and put her sky blue Orange Orange fleece on over the top of it. "I've got enough to do without having to worry about you getting shot again."

Sarah surveyed the building with a pair of binoculars. "Try to see to it you don't get captured this time," she said with a smile.

"Oh don't worry dear. I'll be here to take a third bullet for you if it means the next stop is Fiji," the assured Brit remarked.

"You just don't give up do you?" Sarah questioned with a smirk. Suddenly, she saw movement, and she trained the binoculars on the roof of the Buy More. "We've got a problem," she said, handing the binoculars to Cole.

Through the lens, Agent Barker saw several people dressed in black standing on the roof with Heckler and Koch G36Cs; static ropes were being dropped over the edge of the building and a few of them started to rappel down.

"There's too many," Cole remarked, still looking through the binoculars.

Sarah turned on her earwig and opened a channel to Roan Montgomery, who was pulling his cover shift as the store's new Assistant Manager.

"Roan, you need to get out of there. Colt has brought a small army with him and they are descending upon the store right now. Retreat to Castle; we'll get reinforcements, and then launch a counter-attack."

"Very well," Roan replied through his earpiece. "Is there time to evacuate the store employees?"

"Negative, Roan. You need to move quickly. We have a plan and we'll go over it with you when you reach the Castle."

"On my way."

"We have a plan?" asked Cole, looking at her.

"We always have plan," she replied with a smile. She retrieved her iPhone from her pocket.

"Reinforcements? Surely you jest, darling. We can handle these bandits ourselves," said Cole. "The store hasn't opened yet; civilian casualties will be at an acceptable level."

Sarah and Cole watched as the first wave of Mr. Colt's assault landed on the walkway in front of the store; one of the men shot out the glass door and they ran inside. A second wave of baddies descended in similar fashion through the back loading docks, the audio installation bay, and even through the stairwells.

Sarah looked at Cole. "The employees are Chuck's friends; casualties are not acceptable."

"Not even one?" asked Cole. "We can't possibly avoid it." He shook his head.

"That's why I'm calling Casey." She tapped Casey's number into the phone.

***

"What's wrong?" Chuck asked, as he got in the passenger seat of the Crown Vic.

"That was Walker. Seems like Colt brought a few friends; a few more than they can handle."

Before putting his keys in the ignition, Casey placed two calls. With each call, he said the same three words, "Buy More… urgent."

"What are we waiting for?" Chuck was clearly at a loss as to why they were still sitting there.

"Backup Chuck. I put in a call to Agent Forrest, but could only leave a message. Carina is on her way, but it will take some time for her to get there. Too bad you didn't kill Banachek's thug." Casey started the engine and peeled out of the hotel parking lot.

"That's a terrible thing to say," Chuck remarked without thinking.

Casey rolled his eyes. Sometimes the nerd really got on his nerves. "We're not going to rush in there without the numbers."

"Look, Casey. We're talking about the Buy More, here. Big Mike, Jeff, Lester, Skip, and all our friends are in danger."

"_Your_ friends," said Casey, narrowing his eyes.

Chuck threw up his hands. "Fine, Casey, _my_ friends. The point is, I'm not going to sit by while Mr. Colt takes over the Buy More. We've handled him before; we can do it again."

Casey silently continued to drive the car, obeying all traffic signals and speed limits.

"C'mon Casey! You may have hated working there, but it was _your_ store. Colt is on _your_ turf." He took a deep breath. "What are _we_ going to do about it?" Chuck asked, reaching over the passenger seat into the back of the car.

Suddenly, Casey put the pedal to the metal. Chuck was completely unprepared for the acceleration and he toppled over and into the back seat. He untangled himself and sat upright. "You would warn a guy, you know. After all, you might have damaged the Intersect."

Casey grunted while Chuck reached for the duffel bag at his feet. He unzipped it and removed two bulletproof vests.

"Remember to put it on underneath your shirt, Chuck." Casey instructed.

"Why?"

"Cause we don't want any of _our _friends at the Buy More to know that you're a government supercomputer do we?"

"Right! Great thinking Casey," Chuck said as he pulled off his shirt. He proceeded to strap on a vest and re-buttoned his shirt over it.

As they neared the last traffic signal before the Large Mart plaza, Casey noticeably decided to ignore the red light. He looked up in his rearview mirror and said to Chuck, "Hold on. We've got a store to reclaim."

"Let's do this!" said Chuck.

***

The sound of boots stepping over shattered glass resonated as Mr. Colt's minions moved to their designated positions around the Buy More. Colt turned away from the Nerd Herd Technical Support Desk for a moment to greet his lackeys. Roan took advantage of the moment to duck and crawl into the home theater room, trigger the hidden trapdoor, and escape through the tunnels beneath the store. The Nerd Herders and green shirts scattered throughout the store froze in their tracks, staring at Colt's assault team.

"Line 'em up!" said Colt. As the various store employees made their way to the center aisle, Colt scrunched his large eyebrows. It was as if the green shirts and nerds had performed this task many times before.

"Who's in charge here?" he asked, as he walked down the line.

The employees spoke as one. "Chuck!"

Skip cleared his throat looking to his left and right. "Um, guys he doesn't work here anymore."

"I'll ask again. Who's in charge?" Mr. Colt asked, as he turned and walked the other way.

This time, the green shirts said in unison, "Morgan!"

"Without Morgan, this place blows," huffed the shaggy-haired green shirt named Kirk. All the green shirts nodded in recognition.

"One more time and don't make me ask _again_," Mr. Colt bellowed.

Suddenly, the workers all took a united step back to reveal a cowering Emmett Milbarge, who was hiding behind them. The newly minted Store Manager looked back in disgust at his unfaithful employees, who had just sold him out. "Guess I can trust no one," he said.

"You. Come with me," said Colt, as one of his team hauled Emmett to his feet.

"But… but, I'm nobody," protested Emmett weakly as he was dragged toward the front of the store.

"Put the rest of them in the home theater room. Beauty, you know the rest of the drill." Beauty was a massive blonde woman with a fierce look and a long scar that trailed from the center of her forehead across the bridge of her nose and over her left cheek. She and the rest of Colt's minions herded Skip, Kirk, Fernando, and the remaining speechless employees into the theater room.

"Alright, take 'em off," Beauty instructed. The green shirts removed, well, their green shirts and khakis while the Nerd Herders handed over their grey ties, white button ups, and black pants. They stood huddled together in their skivvies as Colt's team of husky henchmen exchanged their black commando gear for the much smaller Buy More uniforms. With exception of the blonde Beauty (who was anything but), the rest of Colt's thugs went back out into the store. Beauty stayed behind to stand guard over the naked herd.

***

Big Mike had been savoring a raspberry danish in the break room when he heard the shattering glass in the store. As he stepped out into the hall, he noticed a group of 'green shirts' that moved more like the USC defensive line than the 90-pound weaklings that usually overpopulated the store's rank and file. Was this a joke? Had the Mighty Jocks finally taken over the store? The uniforms were ill-fitting on the strangers; arm muscles threatened to rip apart the seams and the khaki pants only came down to mid-calf on most of them. Due to Big Mike's massive girth, also extending beyond the tail of his green shirt, no one paid him any attention.

Then, he saw an impossibly huge man push Emmett up toward the front registers. These goons weren't Mighty Jocks; the Mighty Jocks only cared about one thing—Madden. He looked over at the wall of televisions to see a dark-haired man and a red-headed woman in black suits examining some sort of alien corpse. _That ain't Madden_, he thought. He needed time to think. He looked around and quickly ducked inside the tiny broom closet. _I can't believe this sh…_, he cursed silently as one of his feet fell into a bucket of cold mop water in the much-too-confined space. No, those guys weren't Mighty Jocks. They looked like bail bondsmen, washed out bouncers, or perhaps even the pimp posse. These men were definitely thugs for hire.

That's when it hit him, no, not the mop (although that did, in fact, hit him when he stepped in the bucket for a second time). No, he knew who was responsible. It was that little sniveling Ass Man Barclay from the Beverly Hills Buy More. He was finally attempting to exact his revenge. "That's just like a bunch of rich folks," he muttered. "Always gotta hire somebody to do their dirty work." He grabbed his cell phone from his pants pocket and carefully maneuvered his arm so as not to whack himself in the head a third time with the mop or to knock down the various chemical bottles scattered across the crooked shelving. He dialed and whispered into the phone.

"Morgan?" he began. "It's Big Mike."

He listened for a moment and then sighed loudly. "Yes, Morgan, I'll make it to your Hawaii party. Your mother has already insisted. Now listen up! The store is under attack!"

He listened again. "It's those chumps from the Beverly Hills store! I want you to stop by your mother's house and pick up my fiddle."

"Yes, _that_ fiddle! Oh, and Morgan, why don't you bring your new Hibachi knife set?"

He paused as he listened to the kid try to back out. "Listen son, you've fallen on your sword too many times! Now is the time for redemption. Every man has a time in his life when he must rise up and become the hero he was born to be. Today is that day, Morgan. You do this and consider your marker to me paid."

He smiled. "I'll meet you at the delivery chute."

Big Mike waited five minutes and then peeked out of the closet. None of those Beverly Hills bums-for-hire were looking. The 300-lb man tiptoed as best he could with one wet shoe squishing noisily across the hall into a small anteroom and closed the door quietly behind him. There was a long conveyor belt protruding from a square opening in the wall. He settled in and waited for Morgan.

***

Meanwhile, Lester was curled up in the back of a 1977 Y-82 black and gold Pontiac Trans Am with a tell-tale winged eagle spread across the hood of the car. As usual, the little Indian, who excelled at nothing except his amazing work avoidance skills, was oblivious to the world around him as his iPod and headphones took him away to _Africa, _the Jeffster version, of course. He had stolen the remote control for the bank of televisions on the wall earlier that morning, and scored big when he came across an X-Files marathon. He was sick of Emmett's Animal Planet and romantic comedies. He would share his moment of triumph with Jeff later; he figured he'd better lay low for a while, just in case Emmett realized what had happened. He turned the volume up on his iPod and hummed along softly as he listened.

***

"Where is Charles Carmichael?"

"Who?"

"Chuck!" growled Colt, grabbing a fistful of Emmett's shirt and lifting him onto the register counter.

Emmett's mouth fell open. "Chuck? You mean Chuck Bartowski? You want Chuck?" He sputtered in a high-pitched voice. "Why, he's nothing but a traitor! The gum on my shoe! The mud in a pig sty!" He paused for breath and considered the question. "What do you want him for?"

"I'm gonna kill him." Colt pulled out his gun and pointed it at Emmett's head. "I won't ask you again."

Emmett's eyes narrowed with a devious look . "Wait, wait! If I give you Chuck, you'll let me go?"

Colt nodded his head slowly.

Emmett licked his lips and thought for a moment. "I need to make a call."

Colt nodded again and lowered his gun. Emmett pulled his phone out and punched some numbers.

"Hello, Chuck? This is Emmett. There's been an accident at the Buy More. You need to get over here right away!" There was a short pause. "Good." What a simpleton, Emmett thought. Finally, we will be free of the disease known as Bartowski.

Emmett grinned with a self-satisfied smile as he turned off his phone and set it down. "See?" he said, licking his lips again. "I told you I'd get him here. He'll be here in five."

Mr. Colt smiled and stepped back a little.

"You know," began the sniveling sell-out, "I have a very bad memory. You could let me go and I wouldn't be able to tell anyone anything. And Chuck's no friend of mine. I've been trying to rid this backwater branch of him for the better part of a year. So whatever's going on is between you and him is no business of mine."

Colt's sinister smile widened. Emmett closed his mouth and gulped very deliberately in response.

***

Outside the Buy More, Sarah and Cole moved toward the back loading docks, preparing to enter when their reinforcements arrived. They crouched down behind the cardboard recycling and trash bins.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Cole asked, pointing to the approaching vehicle.

Only it wasn't really a vehicle, but a Schwinn 10-speed. Morgan pedaled his bike up to the wall of the building and used a key to open the padlocked delivery chute.

"That's Morgan! Chuck's best friend!" said Sarah, standing.

"Shh!" hissed Cole, pulling her back down and pointing at one of Colt's delinquents, who had stepped outside for a cigarette. Luckily, a Nerd Herder was parked between the thug and Morgan, so they couldn't see one another.

"Is that a… _violin case_?" Cole asked. "And what is that?"

Sarah shaded her eyes from the sun. "It looks like the Hibachi knife set Chuck and I picked out for his going away present," she said in a puzzled tone.

"What's he going to do? Sing for his supper?" asked Cole.

They watched as Morgan climbed into the square opening. A few minutes later, Colt's lackey finished his cigarette and went back inside.

"You know what they say, dear… what's good for the goose is…" Cole said, cocking his head slightly.

"Good for the gander," finished Sarah, nodding her head in agreement. They ran over to the chute and crawled inside, making their way into the storage cage and on to the employee breakroom.

Just as Cole was about to go out the breakroom door, he heard footsteps approaching. He turned and grabbed Sarah, pressing her against a wall in a passionate embrace. Sarah shoved him away.

"I've got a better idea," she whispered, pulling him over to the lockers. She released the secret panel and exposed the entryway into one of the Castle tunnels. They entered and pulled the door shut behind them. There was a monitor mounted just inside the tunnel, affording them a view of the breakroom.

"You should know by now that I'm not interested," said Sarah.

"Can't blame a man for trying," Cole said with a smile. He turned to watch the monitor.

Feeling hungry, Lester had made his way out from the audio installation bay and into the employee breakroom. He had planned to snag something from the vending machine, but when he arrived, he noticed a couple of raspberry danishes lying on the table. He looked around and wondered briefly why no one was taking a lunch break today. He shrugged his shoulders and grabbed a danish. One man's loss was definitely his gain. As he returned to the audio installation bay, he noticed that there were several new employees he didn't recognize, and that they were all staring at the front of the store. _Emmett must've hired some new goons_, he thought. All the better to lay low. He surely didn't want to have to train any of the new guys. He walked back to the audio install area and sank back down into the Trans Am. There was no way that Smokey was going to find this Bandit today.

***

As Colt's agents infiltrated the Buy More, Roan Montgomery had watched carefully as the store's employees were rounded up and stripped in the home theater room. He kept a sharp eye on the Castle monitors, hoping to find some opening to get them out safely. He wished that he could have instituted… what was it they called it? A Pineapple. But calling a mass evacuation of the store would've been too risky and the potential loss of life too great. Walker was right; they needed a coordinated attack. Ahh, Agent Walker, what a beauty! Still, he couldn't help but be thankful that Bartowski was nowhere nearby such that she would be distracted by their constant cavorting.

For his part, Roan was also a bit distracted. What he needed was a drink. Perhaps, he could swing by the employee restroom and secure a drink from Jeff's stash. Roan switched one of the side monitors to survey the restroom. Suddenly, he noticed a small movement that caught his attention. Roan zoomed in and peered closely at the monitor. The restroom camera was situated at floor level to maintain some small semblance of privacy. There. Someone's feet were moving in stall 2. Jeff's office! He thought for a moment and then snapped his fingers. Of course! He knew exactly what to do.

Roan walked over to the armory behind him. He noticed it came equipped with quite an assortment of handguns— everthing from Smith & Wesson 5906s, SIG-Sauer P229s, Smith & Wesson Model 29 with .44 Magnum cartridges, and various Berettas, Glocks, Norincos, and even Ithacas. He went down the line spouting off various weapon choices, not unlike he once did while borrowing a suit from Casey's closet. "Walker, Casey, Eastwood, Gandolfini, Gandolfini, Gandolfini, Gandolfini. . . ." Then, he found was he was looking for—a Walther PPK, upon which he remarked, "Hello, Montgomery." He picked up the gun and headed toward the back of the Castle. Before he accessed the back exit panel, he spoke into his lapel pin, calling Agent Walker. "Change of plan, I know how to get the store employees out..." He opened the door, and as his voice trailed off, one final thing could be heard, "By the way, do you know where we can find some gin?"

***

Casey's phone rang and he snagged it from his pocket. "Yeah?" He listened a moment. "Yeah." Another pause. "Yeah. Roger that." He broke the connection and redialed. "Agent Casey. Requesting assistance in front of…" He furrowed his brows for a moment, and then he smiled. "Underpants, Etc." He paused. "Roger that. Three Bs. Bedsheets, Booze, and Broads."

Chuck looked at Casey with astonishment. "What the heck was that all about?"

Casey turned toward Chuck with a smile. "Looks like we're throwing a toga party."

***

Even being sober, Roan Montgomery knew that he'd never find his way through the spider web of tunnels weaving beneath the Buy More. He stopped for a moment and heard running water. The employee restroom had to be nearby. His eyes followed a drainpipe that traveled vertically along the wall of the tunnel and then disappeared into the ceiling. He put his ear next to the pipe and made sure that nothing was currently flowing down it. When all was clear, he pulled a corkscrew from his inner jacket pocket, placed it against the PVC and began to turn the screw with a professional flair. Once he made it through the plastic, he pulled out the screw and pressed his lips close to the opening.

Meanwhile, 20 feet above Roan's head, Jeff Barnes was busy enjoying his best friend—beer. Jeff stood up from his easy chair, flipped the toilet lid open, and reached into the bowl. He pulled on a line; a few bottles of beer were attached like a mess of fish. He tore one off, replaced the line, closed the lid, and sat down in his chair. He twisted the cap off and took a long, long swallow.

A distant voice floated up into the stall. "Jeffery."

Jeff looked down at the floor drain between his feet. "Hello? Who is it?"

"It's Roan Montgomery."

"Oh. Why are you in my drain Roan Montgomery?"

"I need a favor."

"Anything for my wingman," said Jeff. "Christine was amazing."

Roan frowned a bit, perplexed. _Didn't I wake up with Christine?_ He shook the thought from his head.

"Jeff, there's a beautiful girl in the home theater room and I thought of you right away. She'll play hard to get though."

"Don't worry, I will bite down hard!" Jeff shouted into the drain.

Roan's eyes widened and his lip curled in disgust until he thought for a moment, "Well if it works. . ." He chuckled as he returned to Castle. He screwed a silencer onto his Walther PPK and re-entered the tunnel system, stopping beneath the trapdoor to the home theater room. It was all up to Jeff _and his teeth _now.

Jeff emerged from the restroom and entered the main floor. Several of Colt's agents aimed their guns at him. He held up his hands just outside the home theater room.

"Is this a raid?" he asked, stumbling forward slightly. He held a 40-ounce beer bottle in his hand. "You're too late! I already drank the evidence!" He giggled and then a loud belch erupted from his throat. He smacked his lips and looked about expectantly. "Do I have time to get my drinking pants?"

"You want me to pop him, Mr. Colt?" asked one of his men.

"Just put him with the others," said Colt. "Bartowski should be here any time now. And that guy can be pretty… imposing. So stay alert."

The thug pushed Jeff into the theater room.

Jeff's eyes widened and he smiled broadly. "All right! Let's party!" He suddenly realized that everyone was in their underwear. "Oh, my bad," he said, promptly removing his shoes, shirt, and pants in a matter of seconds. He looked at Colt's beauty standing in the corner nearest the theater room door. He popped his knuckles and rolled his shoulders a few times. "I'll take a crack at the blonde!" he said, rushing up to her and planting a sloppy kiss on her face until he stumbled to his knees. For any amateur stalker, this would have been a stopping point, but not for a seasoned professional like Jeff. No, he was just getting warmed up.

"Get off, you cretin!" she protested, trying to push him away and draw her gun. He had his arms wound around hers in an embrace, and she couldn't quite get at her weapon.

Suddenly, Roan appeared from behind. He gently whispered in her ear, "Is this man bothering you?" He blew in her ear slightly and continued, "Would you like for me to take care of that little disturbance that he made down there?" Beauty's hand went a bit slack on her weapon and with one move Roan disarmed her and pressed his gun against her side discreetly. He gave a self-satisfied smile and thought, 'I've still got it.'

"Oh Jeffery. I found a street party going on one block over outside Underpants, Etc. Climb down the hatch and follow the lit tunnel to the seventh manhole cover and then climb up. Oh, and take all your friends with you—since you are all appropriately dressed. Everyone's invited."

Jeff turned and saw the open hatch. Skip was already helping to lower the others down.

"So that's what all of this was about. . . it was a chance to have a panty raid during the day?" The sloshed drunk asked. "You know, if you don't watch it you'll end up being the best Ass Man the Buy More has ever seen; even better than Chuck."

Roan smiled, all the while maintaining a firm grip on Beauty. "Thank you, Jeffrey."

"What about you, Mr. Montgomery? Are you coming?" asked Jeff.

"I'll be along in a bit. This beauty and I have some unfinished business, if you know what I mean." Roan responded suggestively.

"You know I do," the drunk responded as he stumbled over to the hatch. "See ya later!"

Roan sighed with relief as the last Buy More employee escaped into the tunnel.

Beauty shoved hard against him, temporarily freeing her gun hand. But just as she turned and set out to draw her gun, he showed her the real definition of 'unfinished business.' Roan raised his Walther PKK and shot her once in the chest, causing her to immediately slump to the floor. He dragged her body over to the hatch and dropped it down.

Speaking into the Pineapple pin on his lapel, he stated, "Agent Walker, the home theater room is secure. The Buy More employees are safe, with the exception of Emmett Milbarge." He listened through his earwig for further instructions. "Very good."

Roan pulled back the curtain just enough to get a view of the main floor. He gasped softly as he saw Lester emerge from the audio installation bay with headphones on, oblivious to Mr. Colt and his syndicate. A black Ford Shelby GT 500 KR Mustang with tinted windows had just pulled up to the front of the store, and all eyes were on it as Lester walked back to the employee restroom.

Lester was parched from the danish and he knew just the thing—he'd grab a cold one from Jeff's fridge. He stepped quietly so as not to attract the attention of Emmett's new goons, who were still staring at the front of the store. _Must be some kind of orientation_, he thought, entering the restroom. He snagged a Chocolate Yoo-hoo from Jeff's 'cooler'. As he returned to the audio installation bay, he stopped for a moment and took a long drink from his bottle of Yoo-hoo. He cocked his head slightly and craned his neck to see over the aisles. He could make out Emmett sitting on one of the register counters, and he ducked down again. _Yep, some kind of orientation_. He hurried back to the audio installation bay and got back into the Trans Am. _Perfect_, he thought. With all the fuss over the new hires, he could probably get away with not working at all today.

***

Casey and Chuck ran through the Orange Orange and down into the Castle. They grabbed a few guns from the armory and headed straight out the back toward the tunnels and eventually made their way to the hatch to the home theater room in the Buy More. Chuck saw a body lying across the tunnel floor and skidded to a complete stop. Casey didn't notice and crashed into his back, cursing all the while under his breath. He saw the body then—obviously a woman with blonde hair. He gripped Chuck's shoulder as he stepped past him and approached the body slowly, trying to make out details in the dim light. He leaned over her face and let his breath out in a loud whoosh.

"It's okay, Chuck, it must've been one of Colt's people."

Chuck also let out a trapped breath, and he nodded his head, unable to take his eyes from the body. Casey moved it off to one side and climbed up the ladder beneath the hatch. "Chuck," he said.

Chuck finally moved toward the hatch, and he looked up at Casey.

"Trust no one."

"Will do, Agent Mulder," replied Chuck. "Wait, that makes me the girl _again_," he said, hitting his head on the rung in front of him while climbing up the ladder behind Casey.

Casey looked down at him sharply, and Chuck gave him a small nod. Satisfied, Casey pushed the hatch open and was greeted by Roan. Chuck followed. The three men barely had a moment together before the theater room door burst open. Big Mike and Morgan rushed in and shut the door. Roan and Casey quickly stashed the guns they had drawn. The two groups of men looked at each other with astonishment.

"Chuck!" said Big Mike, holding his fiddle case. "I never would have thought… it means so much that you and Casey have come to help defend the Buy More from those Beverly Hills bastards." He turned to Morgan. "Did you call for the reinforcements?"

Chuck spoke before Morgan could answer. "Actually, Casey and I were just stopping by to pick up our final paychecks when we realized something was wrong." He gestured toward Roan. "Your new Assistant Manager, Mr. Montgomery, filled us in and we wanted do what we could to help."

"That's great, Chuck," said Morgan. "Only there's an awful lot of Mitt-sized Mighty-Jock-like muscle walking around out there, dude." He threw up his hands. "And I must have dropped my knife set on the way in."

"Don't worry buddy; I'm sure we'll find 'em." Chuck gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

"What we need is a plan," said Roan.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" the little bearded man asked Chuck.

Chuck snapped his fingers. "That's right! Call of Duty! We can use the same plan of attack we used on the _Large Mart_ goons last year." He paused. "If we can remember it."

"Are you kidding? Check this out!" Morgan ran over to the couch and reached beneath it. Taped to the underside was a large schematic . He pulled it out and everyone gathered around it. "I almost forgot this was still under here; it's the strategy plan from last year. I was going to modify it for this year's war."

Casey peered over Chuck's shoulder. "That looks like the Buy More layout."

"It's actually the Compound level layout from Call of Duty, but you didn't really want to know that, did you?" Chuck's voice trailed off. "Still, we can easily adapt it to the store. That mountain in the center is the Nerd Herd desk."

They devised a strategy and Casey made certain that Big Mike and Morgan were delegated to the least dangerous areas, not that they were any the wiser. Big Mike would carry his bat and make his way to the audio installation bay, where he would stay in case one of the 'Beverly Hills thugs' tried to nab Lester. Morgan would defend the home theater room. While Big Mike and Morgan were preparing to deploy, Roan gave an earwig to Casey and one to Chuck; they were now in communication with Sarah and Cole, who were apprised of the situation by Roan. The plan was fairly simple. Sarah and Cole would start at the rear of the store and, having already cleared the cage and storage areas, they would check the employee break room and then make their way forward, taking down any of Colt's men as they advanced. Roan would neutralize any threats surrounding Mr. Colt, while Casey dealt with Mr. Colt himself. Chuck would stay low, head to the cash registers, and try to free Emmett, who sat only mere feet from the store entrance. He would do what he could to get Emmett out of harm's way.

Colt and his people were still watching the dark car that had pulled up to the front of the building. It just sat there, the engine idling. Suddenly, there was a commotion near the back of the store; Big Mike ran out of the theater room at full speed. A surprised baddie stood in front of him, momentarily paralyzed at the sight of the large man bearing down on him like a locomotive. Big Mike swung his bat and it connected with the man's head, knocking him out cold. Big Mike kept running; he slammed into the side of the sound booth leading to the audio install bay and ripped open the door, disappearing inside and pulling the door shut behind him.

Sarah and Cole split up and then began to fire their guns, working their way up opposite sides of the store. Casey and Roan ducked low and ran up the DVD aisle to the register area. Chuck followed behind them, using display stands for cover.

Agent Barker found himself surrounded in the home appliance section by three of Colt's thugs, who were shooting at him. He took cover behind a wide freezer chest and returned fire. Casey, hearing the gunfire, diverted over to that section, and Chuck followed him.

"Need a hand?" yelled Casey. He and Chuck crouched low behind one of the BeastMaster displays.

"Not at all," said Cole. He rolled out from behind the freezer and fired low at the man using a refrigerator door for cover. The man yelped as bullets cut through his combat boots. He fell over and Cole shot him in the head. Cole then whipped around and shot three more bullets into the chest of a woman who had charged up behind him. She also dropped to the floor. The last thug rushed at Cole, firing his gun. Cole sidestepped the attack and pushed the man against the freezer, and then he slammed the freezer lid on the man's head twice, knocking him senseless. Cole grabbed the man's legs and up-ended him into the freezer, closing the lid down with a bang. He smiled and dusted off his hands before running down the aisle past Casey and Chuck.

"Is there anything that guy can't do?" wondered Chuck aloud, as he moved down the aisle.

Casey scoffed. "That was _my_ move," he grumbled to himself, following Chuck.

As Sarah passed the theater room, one of Colt's men managed to knock her to the ground and her gun flew from her hand. She stood and prepared for hand-to-hand combat, until she noticed a familiar case lying on the floor; it had cracked open and the handle of a knife stuck out. The man raised his gun.

Just before Colt's man fired the gun, Sarah dropped to the ground and rolled, snatching the knife as the bullet sailed harmlessly over her head. She threw it at her attacker, hitting him in the chest. He fell to the floor. She spotted her gun, grabbed it, and continued moving forward.

Cole and Sarah reached the front of the store simultaneously; Cole came up the west wall, and Sarah came up the east. They each pointed a gun at one of Colt's remaining men and realized they were in a standoff. Casey had a gun trained on Mr. Colt, and Roan had a gun aimed at a guy standing next to Colt. The three thugs had their guns drawn as well, and Colt held a gun to Emmett's head.

"Let him go and I'll let you live," said Casey.

"Give me Chuck, and I'll think about it," replied Colt.

Chuck stood up from behind a display with his hands raised. "I'm here, you can let him go."

"You see? You've got your man, now you can let me go, big fella," said Emmett. He turned to Chuck. "I always knew you were trouble, Bartowski," he hissed.

"I've got the upper hand here," said Colt. "I've got a hostage and your team can't take on all of my agents." As he spoke, three more members of his team emerged from the computer software aisle. They had dropped into the store through the ventilation system during the gunfight. They clicked the safeties off their guns and smiled.

Chuck noticed the door open on the idling car and he licked his lips. He only needed to stall a few minutes. He reached into his pocket slowly and called Morgan, putting the iPhone on speaker mode. "Morgan," he said.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, Chuck," said Morgan.

"Morgan, I'd like for you to tell me the exact specs for the team surrounding the Buy More."

"The whole shebang?" the little man asked.

"The whole shebang."

"Yes, sir. We have 23 infantry troopers, 16 snipers, 7 heavy gunners, 4 demolition experts, . . . " Morgan continued to babble on as Chuck lowered his iPhone down .

Colt smiled. "I'm not going to fall for that again, _Agent Carmichael_."

Suddenly, gunfire erupted, the bullets hitting the front of the store, shattering the windows. Carina stood in front of her car with an M-16, spraying the bullets just high enough to avoid killing anyone.

Everyone began shooting at the same time, and Colt shoved Emmett off the counter. Emmett stood up to run and one of Colt's men fired at him, shooting him in the back. He fell to the floor.

"No!" yelled Chuck, ignoring the rain of bullets around him. He ran over to Emmett and knelt beside him. Turning him over, Chuck realized that Emmett was already dead.

Seconds later, the store fell silent. Colt's agents surrendered, raising their hands up in the air. Mr. Colt was bleeding from three bullet wounds, one in the shoulder and two in his right leg. Even so, the massive man remained standing as Casey slipped the zip ties over his hands.

Two large black vans pulled up to the front of the store; the NSA back-up had perfect timing, as usual. Agent Forrest jumped out of the passenger side of one of the vans. "I can't _believe_ I missed all the gunplay."

Casey chuckled softly. It was good to see her again.

Sarah directed Roan and Casey to carry Emmett out to one of the vans. Chuck watched them silently. Colt and the rest of his thugery were herded into the other van.

***

As the commotion near the front of the store ceased, Morgan walked out to the audio install bay and joined Big Mike.

"Where's Lester?" he asked, looking around.

"I didn't see him, maybe he split when he saw those hired hands from Beverly Hills," said Big Mike. He turned to face Morgan.

"Son, I want to thank you for coming when I needed you most."

Morgan shuffled his feet. "Aw, that's okay."

Big Mike placed his hands on Morgan's shoulders. "Morgan, consider your debt paid."

The men were silent for a moment, and then Morgan moved toward the back door. "What's that music?" he asked. They both went outside.

Meanwhile, Lester, who was still slumped down in the Trans Am listening to his iPod, glanced at his watch and realized his shift was over. He climbed out of the car and decided to avoid Emmett by exiting via the audio bay door. When he opened the door, he was shocked to see a man wearing a bed sheet walk by. Several NSA cleaners had donned togas to help keep the Buy More employees contained and to keep them from discovering the real events of the day.

Lester followed the man along the back lots of the Large Mart plaza and around a corner to the front of Underpants, Etc. He stood with wide eyes and an open mouth. Music was blaring from a set of monstrous speakers, and an entire crowd of people dressed in togas were dancing in the parking lot. Morgan and Big Mike had joined the dancers, and Lester saw Skip, Fernando, Kirk and all the Buy More gang, as well as employees from the Large Mart and Underpants, Etc. stores.

"Why didn't anyone tell me there was a toga party today?" he asked himself.

Suddenly Jeff rushed up to him barefoot, his sheet barely fastened and flapping behind him. While the other party-goers kept their skivvies on under their sheets, Jeff had decided that he would go au natural—in true toga fashion. He wore a leafy crown on his head and held a bottle of beer.

"Lester! Where have you been? C'mon, man, the booze is free!"

Lester tried to avoid looking at Jeff from the waist down and looked up at his head. He pointed. "Can I get one of those?" he asked.

Jeff's face lit up and he grabbed Lester's hand, running into the crowd.

***

Chuck stood outside and leaned against the building, watching Cole and Carina load the remaining men into the van. Suddenly he stepped forward. Did he just see one of Colt's men hand something to Cole? He blinked his eyes in the sunlight. Cole walked over to him.

"Well, done, Chuck. We got away with acceptable losses," he said.

Chuck nodded his head slightly and Cole walked back into the store. Sarah came out and stood next to Chuck.

"I'm sorry, Chuck," she said.

He gave her a small smile. "I know, Sarah."

She took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze as they waited for Casey to drive the Crown Vic over to them.

"How many more losses will be acceptable?" he asked.

Sarah sighed. "I can't answer that, Chuck. We'll take down every last escapee, I can tell you that. It would help if we could figure out who's been lying to us, though."

Chuck watched Cole get into one of the vans and drive away. "The truth is out there," he said.

***

"I'm just not sure that's such a great idea, babe," said Devon. "I mean, I was hoping we could just spend the afternoon performing an instant replay of our honeymoon."

"And what did we do this morning?" asked Ellie, placing her hands on her hips.

"That was just the first inning replay, _Mrs. Woodcomb_." He walked up and wrapped his arms around her.

Ellie gave an exaggerated sigh. "You are simply incorrigible." She enjoyed his embrace for a moment and then stepped back. "We might as well get this over with," she said. "We have six Food Savers! Six! All because someone at that lousy Buy More didn't update the registry."

"Okay, but let's make it a quick trip."

Ellie smiled at him. "Maybe we can cover _two_ innings tonight."

Devon packed the Food Savers into the backseat and they were soon on their way. In the rear view mirror, Devon noticed that a dark car had pulled out behind him and was following. _At least I have some NSA backup this time_, he thought.

As they were making the turn into the parking lot, they noticed a crowd of people dressed in white, dancing in front of Underpants, Etc. Devon pulled the car closer to the crowd.

"Is that Big Mike?" he asked. "Wearing a toga?"

"What is all this?" asked Ellie.

They got out of the car, and Devon looked back at the dark car, which had pulled up beside them. The driver nodded at Devon, indicating that everything was okay.

Devon and Ellie wandered their way into the crowd.

***

Chuck and Sarah were just getting into Casey's Crown Vic when Morgan, wearing a bed sheet over his boxers and his green and yellow running shoes, rushed up to them, breathless.

"Chuck," he started, taking great big breaths. "Chuck."

Alarmed, Chuck and Sarah walked over to Morgan, and Casey got out of the car.

"Slow down, buddy," said Chuck. "What's wrong?"

Morgan took a few more breaths. "Nothing's wrong," he said with a smile. "There's some super-hot chick at the party who wanted to dance with Chuck Bartowski from the Buy More." He laughed. "I told her you were already taken," he said, looking at Sarah. "She's probably an old customer who still has the hots for you, buddy."

Chuck smiled with relief. "Thanks, Morgan. I'll see you at the going away party."

Morgan grabbed his arm. "Wait, Chuck. When I told Ellie you were here, she asked me to get you. This lady started dancing the tango with Awesome, and she said she wouldn't stop until she got to dance with you. This lady must have a serious crush on you, dude."

"Ellie and Awesome are there?" asked Chuck.

Morgan nodded. "So?"

Chuck turned to Sarah. "Are you coming to the toga party?"


	5. The Mummy Returns

CHUCK VERSUS THE TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE,

NO GOOD, REALLY BAD DAY

Chapter 5

by Aardvark

The Mummy Returns

A sea of fire lay on all sides of him. Arms guarding his face, he staggered drunkenly between the brightest, hottest sources, trying to find a way through. Trying to find an oasis – anything that wasn't burning.

The smoke choked him. While he had his shirt pulled over his nose and mouth it only partially blocked the ash and had no effect on the penetrating smell of petroleum. His eyes stung and watered but he dared not shut them lest he wander into a roaring blaze.

He was sure his clothes were melting onto his skin, but he couldn't feel anything beyond the intense heat from the glowing pyres around him. The thought crossed his mind that he was likely in shock – a grim realization that whatever pain he did not feel now would arrive tenfold later – _if_ he survived. Without any other option, he stumbled forward as best he could, trying to stay alive for one more second. And then another.

Suddenly, he became aware that one side of his body felt less hot than the other, and when he turned that direction he could see areas of darkness through the swirling flames – things that _were not on fire!_ He headed towards them on instinct with his last dregs of his strength.

Closing in on the darkest place he could see, a ridge became evident – an edge starkly cut between the bright and the dark. A gust of cooler air rushed over it and teased his face and arms, _sweet relief_. Without a moment's pause, he stepped over the ledge and fell down the other side, tumbling end-over-end in the sand and scrub. As best he could, he tried to protect his head with his arms, fending off the ground and the brush. The pain from the impacts was unbearable.

He never saw the outcropping of rock that knocked him unconscious.

He awoke on his back noticing the cool. It was so incredibly cool, even cold. He never imagined being cold could feel so good. He tried to open his eyes to see where he was, only to realize they were already open. Yet all he saw was blackness. _Maybe_, he thought… _maybe this is it. Maybe I'm done_.

He let out a long breath, raspy from the mucus in his lungs. It wasn't such a bad way to go. He felt… calm. At peace.

But ever so slowly, he started to discern something, as his eyes adjusted from the open furnace above the ridge. Tiny dots in the dark.

Stars.

In the pit of the deep desert, they filled the whole sky.

* * *

_Finally_, she thought, as the John Doe in eleven stopped jerking and moaning and resumed his normal, labored, but steady breathing. She leaned to her right to flip the tabs on her shift log to room eleven, then checked the clock and made an entry for the attending on morning rounds.

Looking back up at the display, her hand poised to switch views to another room, she hesitated briefly. Even in this place, with its occasional tableaus of horror and gore, severe burn victims were the worst. Unable to move, covered in bandages and grafts and delirious for days or weeks, these people were cloth-covered shells – hardly living at all. If anything, they were just, well… waiting. For life to begin again or… not.

For this John Doe, it meant daily nightmares, like clockwork. He was probably reliving whatever terrible calamity put him here. A one-act play she'd witnessed a dozen or more times, with the same theme, the same pacing and – as best she could tell – the same tranquil ending.

She flipped the switch.

* * *

Chuck smiled with relief. "Thanks, Morgan. I'll see you at the going away party." He started to climb into the Crown Vic.

Morgan grabbed his arm. "Wait, Chuck. When I told Ellie you were here, she asked me to get you. This lady started dancing the tango with Awesome, and she said she wouldn't stop until she got to dance with you. This lady must have a serious crush on you, dude."

"Ellie and Awesome are there?" asked Chuck.

Morgan nodded. "So?"

Chuck turned to Sarah, a familiar and ironic phrase forming in his mind. "Are you coming to the toga party?" he asked her, smirking.

_Are you coming to the t__oga __p__arty?_ The question rang in Sarah's head and, unbidden, the memories from The Farm, from Langley, from her assignment at Princeton… it all came rushing back to her. She didn't know what Chuck experienced when he flashed, but she imagined it must be something like this, only a hundred times more potent. She stared at him, transfixed by the memory overload, trying to fight off the autonomic response this "call to action" phrase invoked.

"Sarah?" Chuck asked, his smirk melting into a look of concern. He peered directly into her eyes and tried to find a reaction. "Sarah!" he prompted, a little more strongly this time. Suddenly, she blinked a few times and seemed to refocus on his face.

"Wha - Yeah, sorry. I was just…" she got out before spotting Morgan in her peripheral vision, "… just wondering what Devon is _doing_? It's still technically their honeymoon, after all." She looked up at Chuck, her eyes flicking quickly over towards Morgan and back.

"Hey, Morgan?" Chuck asked, "Can you give us a couple of minutes before we head over?"

"Uh… Sure, Chuck. Take all the time you need. I'll catch you over at the porta-potty's… I've been feeling a little overwhelmed after everything that happened with those Beverly Hills Buy More stooges anyway, _but_…" Morgan continued with a gleam in his eye, "Who in their right mind would miss a toga party!" He started off toward the Underpants, Etc. while they watched. Sarah waited until he was out of earshot, then switched her agent persona into high gear.

"Tango, huh? There's only one person that could be. But, I'm surprised she's making her presence so obvious – it's not really her style." She glanced at Chuck with new worry lines forming on her brow. It was not hard to see where this situation with La Ciudad was heading. And – _note to self_ – she was going to _have_ to have a talk with Chuck about code phrases – the wrong phrase around the right agent could be as dangerous as waving a pistol around in a police station.

"La Ciudad?" Chuck gulped, finally vocalizing what all of them were thinking. His expression reflected his last memory of the spider woman, bullets flying by him on all sides while he tried desperately to rock his chair onto the floor and, presumably, out of harm's way. He shuddered at the recollection. Then the gears began to turn and his mind returned to the present.

"Sarah, she's got Devon."

"But," Sarah reminded him, "she wants _you_." She tapped on her iPhone and started scrolling down her contact list just as Casey stood up outside the car. "Change in plans," she said, turning to him. "La Ciudad has got Devon at the toga party. I'm calling Carina now."

She finished dialing and turned to Casey. "Where are the others? Where's Forrest? She seems to like dancing," Sarah added snarkily.

"Yeah, around a pole." Chuck said under his breath, drawing stares from the two agents. Sarah suppressed a grin and turned to Casey with a questioning look.

"I saw Agents Forrest and Barker take off with the prisoners not five minutes ago, Casey said, matter-of-factly. "Agent Montgomery should already be on-site. He was going to check on the Buy Morons since he's probably their new store manager now." Casey started snickering at the thought of Roan's predicament, but the humor soured at the sight of Chuck's face. He glanced downward instead. Obviously, the nerd was still dwelling on Emmett's unfortunate demise.

"Anyway," he said, hurriedly pulling his own cell out and punching a quick dial number, "the NSA team that setup this soirée is just cooling their heels on the perimeter – no reason not to bring them in closer."

Sarah clicked off her iPhone and looked pointedly at Casey, "Keep them alert, Casey. La Ciudad isn't stupid and she'll have people positioned to watch for external threats." Casey nodded. "Carina is heading back and she'll meet us in five."

She looked at Chuck and sighed. It had already been a long day and it was about to get even longer. And while her mind took note of how fatigue seemed to be having more effect on her than she ever remembered it having before (was she getting too soft? Too old?), she knew she had to keep pushing herself to protect the man in front of her.

"Chuck," Sarah approached with a softened tone, "I'm not even going to try to ask you to wait in the car this time." She gave him a small grin. "But… even though you're a full agent, none of us knows yet how this new Intersect is going to work – or, more importantly, _not_ work. So you need to stay in a relatively safe position behind Casey and me and let us do what we do best."

Chuck's face tightened for a moment and he gave her a strange look that she couldn't quite decipher. It was as if she'd said something he didn't expect or forgotten something she should've known. It certainly wasn't the reaction she'd expected. She was still pondering over it when he seemed to push his thoughts aside and move on.

"Yeah, I get that," Chuck nodded, giving her a slight smile that he hoped would be convincing.

But he knew that wasn't quite right – he didn't _totally_ get it. _What __'__we__'__ do best_. For the first time he could remember, that phrase did not fully ring true for him. Sure, he knew he didn't have the training that allowed Sarah and Casey to automatically think and act like agency operatives. And there was no doubt in his mind that he wasn't in anywhere near the level of physical shape that either of them maintained, but… in spite of those deficiencies, he'd done some amazing things as of late.

Weren't Sarah and Casey there? Could they have not noticed?

Chuck looked back over at Sarah, who was still studying his face with measured concern. She raised her eyebrows quizzically, urging him to explain. Her deep blue eyes locked onto his; expressively persuading him to tell her what was wrong. To let her in on the secret, whatever it was. To _trust_ her.

God, she was good at this.

Chuck gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing noticeably. _Maybe I should say something_. _Maybe if I tell __her__ how I'm feeling __she'll__ …_

He knotted his brow and opened his mouth to speak, but just before he made a sound his breath caught and he turned away, the sound of her voice from a different time echoing in his mind.

_All nice guys want to do is talk about their feelings_.

"We should go," he sighed, and walked off to find Morgan.

* * *

Bernie Engels was pulling out the remaining hairs on his balding head. The unkempt security guard for Underpants, Etc… was struggling with the controls on his console, uttering an increasingly vile series of epithets all the while showing more and more of his crooked teeth.

Every time he selected a parking lot security camera and tried to put it into sweep mode, a camera he'd already adjusted would unfailingly pan back over to the toga party in the parking lot, methodically zooming in and out on the various people there.

The cameras he'd already "fixed" were reverting to this behavior faster than he could readjust them. And as if things weren't bad enough, some of the cameras _inside_ the store were now starting to point out the front window at the party.

"Dammit to hell!" he exclaimed in frustration, slamming his sweaty palms on the desk. He stared furiously at all of the monitors, their views see-sawing back and forth across the crowd, while he tried to figure out what to do. He reached for his radio and was about to call his supervisor when he noticed something strange.

Some of the cameras were no longer roaming, but sticking to various individuals and tracking their movements. There was one woman, who seemed to be dancing _a Foxtrot_? with what looked like Captain America, and there were a couple of other guys that looked like European body builders (real Governator types). They didn't seem all that noteworthy to _him_.

Watching the cameras being operated with such assuredness and sophistication _was_ noteworthy, though. Part of him was stunned – he had no idea the cameras could track people that way. Still, this was _his_ system and someone was making _him_ look bad. It was time to take back control.

"Oh, so you've found some favorites have you?" Bernie said under his breath. "Well, get your jollies now, 'cause when I find out who is screwing with my system there's going to be hell to pay. Oh yes indeedy." Bernie keyed his walkie and called for his supervisor, swiveling his chair to the side to put his feet up on the desk.

So animated was his description of the hackers' penetration of the store's security system that he didn't notice another camera had stopped searching the crowd and was locked onto a small band of people approaching from its periphery.

There were five of them, led by two women, a blonde and a redhead, both striking. The camera zoomed in on each of their faces, then past them to a short, bearded man in a toga and then on to the taller, brown-haired guy walking with him.

They slowed as they passed a tall, older man in a yellow shirt and grey vest. Words seemed to be exchanged discreetly. Then he and the man at the rear of the group split left and right. The camera, however, stayed on the foursome – the tall man and his two female escorts in particular.

* * *

"Yo, Jeffster! Dudes!" Morgan shouted, waving to the pair in bed sheets over by the coolers. They raised their beers in salute, Jeff's sweaty, crimson face a pretty good sign that those weren't his first libations of the evening.

"So, Chuck," Morgan said in a low voice, leaning in towards him, "why didn't you mention that _Carina_ was back in town? I mean, I know I'm with Anna now, but it could still be pretty awkward if we all ran into each other and… WHOA!", Morgan pointed abruptly at a large muscular man with long hair, "Look at that dude! He looks like that guy from Scorpion King! He's _HUGE_!" Morgan glanced back at Chuck to see if he saw the man he was pointing at, but Chuck seemed to be lost in his own world.

Morgan didn't know it, but Chuck _had_ heard him. It was just that the part of his brain Chuck was using to listen to his little bearded friend was very small and programmed not to interrupt except in case of dire emergency. With the rest of his faculties, Chuck was replaying the end of his conversation with Sarah. And wondering what had caused the unexpected and unwanted sound bite from the Standard's hotel bar. What was that about? Hadn't Sarah done everything within her reach to prove he could trust her? She'd chosen him over her career _twice_ in the last month. What more could she do?

And then there was Barstow. The memories of a few seconds that happened there – and his fantasy of what could have happened in the minutes afterward – were familiar visitors to Chuck's REM sleep. If that wasn't sufficient reason to trust her, what about the hotel room, earlier that day? She'd told him he wasn't an asset anymore and then she'd kissed him, which was… _nice_. It was hard to ignore that whatever distance still remained between them was shrinking.

By every measure, Sarah was on his side. She protected him with her life. She obviously cared deeply for him to have done the things she did for him. And maybe, just maybe… she even loved him. Wasn't that enough?

Chuck watched her, walking ahead of him, moving casually through the crowd in an artful simulation of a mingling partygoer. She paused, she smiled, she waved authentically at no one in particular. She really was amazing. His heart swelled and extended upward to his smile. Sarah showed such skill every day in going about her job, especially at times like these, when it seemed that life and death hung on their every action.

He sighed. Maybe it _was_ enough. Maybe the problem wasn't Sarah and Casey at all. Maybe it was himself. _He'd_ chosen to put the Intersect back in his head. To take on responsibilities that he'd previously accepted only grudgingly. But he was still acting like an asset, most of the time. He needed to start proving – every day – that like Sarah and Casey he had skill and initiative too. That maybe they needed him as much as he needed them. And then someday, maybe, they'd have the same faith in his abilities that he had in theirs. Hmm. Those were a lot of maybe's.

"Hey Chuck, there's Ellie," Morgan brushed his arm and pointed up ahead. As he started to move forward to get her attention, Chuck suddenly reached over and grabbed his shoulder.

"Wait, Morgan… Wait!" Chuck looked ahead for Sarah and called to her. She turned, saw his expression and signaled Carina to hold up.

Chuck put his hands on Morgan's shoulders, his eyes focusing on his friend as he pulled himself back into a familiar role. He knew what was needed if they were to keep Ellie safe from what was about to happen.

And he knew the part Morgan had to play.

"I need your help," Chuck intoned, using the voice he'd practiced since childhood.

Morgan knew that voice well.

"Sure, Chuck. Anything for you, you know that."

Chuck smiled. "I do." He considered Morgan's eager face for a few more seconds, readying himself to deliver the request – and ruin the little man's evening. Morgan was always there for him, it seemed. Why did he only seem to remember that at times like these?

"Morgan, I need you to be sick," Chuck said quickly. Morgan's eyes opened wider, then he thought for a moment and started to laugh.

"Is that it…? No problem, man, I mean… if you just wait for a couple of hours I'm pretty sure…"

"No! I mean, I need you to be sick _right now_. And then I need you to go up to Ellie and tell her you need help and to get you to a hospital. She's not going to want to leave without Devon, but I'll handle that part. You just need to convince her you're sick enough to require her assistance. Can you do that for me, buddy?"

Morgan stared at Chuck for a moment, his eyes shifting back and forth as he processed Chuck's request.

"Look," Chuck continued, "I asked Devon to do something for me. Something that I really needed him to do, even though both of us knew it might cause a big problem between him and Ellie."

"Devon really came through for me and now I have to fix things. But I need to talk to him alone first and that isn't going to happen if I can't get Ellie away from here for a few minutes."

"Chuck, after the bachelor party, and…", Morgan cringed visibly, "the wedding… I mean… I was glad to do all that for you, but I'm not sure Ellie's going to want to help me now."

Chuck gave him an incredulous look. "Morgan, are you kidding? Ellie's a doctor! When's the last time you saw her ignore someone who needed medical attention?" Morgan considered this question for a moment, eventually wobbling his head affably.

"That's an excellent point." Morgan admitted.

"Will you do it?" Chuck asked again. Morgan hesitated, but there was never really any doubt about the outcome.

"Sure. I mean sure! Of course I will."

"Thanks, buddy. I owe you one." Chuck made eye contact with Sarah and nodded his head. She was already on the way over.

"Look, Morgan. Just give me two minutes with Ellie and then come on over and tell us how terrible you're feeling, okay?" Morgan nodded.

"Is everything alright?" Sarah asked. She was facing Chuck but he noticed her eyes never stopped scanning the crowd around them.

"Yeah. Everything's fine. Morgan is feeling really ill and I think it's best if Ellie helps him get some medical attention. We're just on the way over to her now."

Sarah's eyes searched Chuck's quizzically and he opened them slightly wider for a second to cue her in. She looked at Morgan briefly, then back at Chuck. He could almost see the spy gears turning in her head. Then her face relaxed ever so slightly and he knew she understood.

"You know, that's a good idea," she said, adopting a sympathetic expression as she turned to Chuck's friend. "I'm sorry to hear you're sick, but it's definitely better to be safe than sorry. Right, Morgan?"

Morgan just looked at her and nodded his head glumly.

Sarah flashed Chuck an almost imperceptible nod and smile as she turned to rejoin Carina. It was a subtle message Chuck "got" pretty clearly – she was both pleased and impressed. He'd seen it before, at the sushi place with Devon and Ellie, when he ordered correctly for her. And when she told him it was okay to be a hero even if no one else knew about it, because he knew – and she did, too.

Sarah's endorsement of his plan and the pleasant memories she'd invoked improved his outlook a little bit. Maybe working on his own attitude was the right idea, after all. Chuck held two fingers up to Morgan, reminding him to wait two minutes before joining him and Ellie. Then he turned and followed Sarah through the crowd.

Morgan looked at the ground briefly, then watched as Chuck walked away. With a sigh, he started counting to a hundred and twenty, simultaneously trying to decide what kind of malady he could pull off convincingly.

* * *

Evelyn Carnahan, R.N. made her rounds of the burn ward ten minutes late this evening, and like most times that happened she expected the worst. The patients who were conscious had nothing else to do but wait every second of every minute she failed to appear – and many of them were not shy in letting her know just how long that seemed for them. Coupled with the fact that she alone was the gatekeeper for their respective pain medications overnight and… well, they tended to get pretty anxious, to put it mildly. It was no different tonight.

Much better, from her perspective, were the poor, unconscious souls in the last rooms of her tour. The worst they did was moan and gurgle, which was tolerable for the brief period she had to spend in their rooms.

Like this one, number ten. Two unfortunate victims of an accidental scalding at a meat packing plant. Both of the men had yet to awaken and, truth be told, they probably wouldn't. Sadly, this was true of most individuals in these rooms. The ones that did become lucid were usually moved away from the unconscious ones. It was better for their mental health.

As she left room ten and the sounds of its dueling respirators, she glanced over her shoulder briefly into the darkened room. Being awake around the comatose could freak anyone out after awhile. It was like being trapped with the living dead.

She entered room eleven at full speed while engaged with her cell phone, the musical ringtone of Michael Jackson's "Thriller" signaling the presence of a newly arrived text message. She grinned at the message, a routine twitter from her son about what he was having for dinner, and killed the ringtone, returning the room to silence. Putting the phone in her pocket, she glanced up at the bed and started to greet the unconscious occupant as was her routine.

There was no one in it.

Momentarily stunned, her eyes roamed the extent of the bed and the floor looking for the missing patient. Peering into the subdued light, she reached absently for the bed remote to turn up the lighting in the room.

"Kootash dai na, aja nilo," came a voice from her right.

Evelyn let out a short scream and jumped a few inches to the left. With one hand reflexively covering her gaping mouth and the other holding on to the bed rail for support, she stared at the spot from which the voice originated.

There, standing at the wall in front of a mirror, was a man completely swathed in bandages – obviously the patient from the empty bed. In the dim light, his bandages askew, he looked like… well, _that was stupid and this wasn't a movie_, she thought.

"I'm… I'm s-sorry, what did you say?" Evelyn stuttered, her eyes flicking over to the file holder on the wall – and the name printed on the folder. _John D-_ _Oh great, it's the John Doe_. She tried to calm her racing heart while moving hesitantly toward the man, who seemed to be struggling with the bandages over his mouth.

"I said," the man repeated, his cracked lips finally clear of the coverings, "please keep the lights low. My eyes have become very sensitive and I have a splitting headache." At the end of every word there was a whistle from his lungs. They sounded dry, like the desert wind.

"Of course…" Evelyn replied, her voice fluttering. She noticed the disconnected IV line cast onto the floor, the torn bandages and blood from the hardened skin that must have opened during the patients struggle to stand. That must have hurt like hell.

"How did you manage –"

"I have an unusually high pain tolerance," he said, in a hoarse monotone. He paused for several seconds, during which he appeared to consider his own image in the mirror. Evelyn felt as if she was frozen in ice. She couldn't seem to do anything but stand there and stare at him.

"What's wrong with my eyes?" he said, finally.

She ignored the question, took a deep breath and tried to get her nerve up. Her training told her to take back control of this situation and _manage the patient_. Every second she let him stand there was another second he could fall over and hurt himself and that could lead to a negative report, maybe even a lawsuit.

And however good an excuse for inaction this freak-worthy and surreal scene seemed right now, Evelyn was pretty sure it wouldn't convey nearly as well in the sunlit earth tones of the hospital administrator's office.

"I really need you to get back in bed, Mr. …?" Evelyn waited, but the man said nothing. He just kept staring at himself in the mirror.

"Can you tell me your name?" she insisted.

The man said nothing for several seconds, seemingly mesmerized by his own visage – the pale, yellow eyes staring back at him from a gap between the bandages on his head.

"You can call me… Vincent."

* * *

"Chuck! I'm so glad you're here," Ellie said, her voice strained. The mascara on her face was slightly smeared and there were fresh traces down her cheeks that she hurriedly wiped away with her hand. "It's Devon, he's… not acting like himself… he…"

She turned toward the center of the crowd, where a large opening had formed. Within it, Chuck could see Devon's head moving back and forth, his face set in a strained expression visible even at this distance. He looked pretty freaked.

"I tried to get him to stop dancing with that woman… I'm not even sure why they were dancing in the first place. I…" Ellie looked at the ground.

"I don't know why I let Devon talk me into coming here. What was I thinking? The last time he was here was his bachelor party." She gave Chuck a withering look.

"Ellie, there's a rea –" Chuck began.

"I was just getting us some drinks," Ellie continued, "and when I got back here they were going at it. I thought it was cute, at first, and I went along with it, but then I tried to cut in and… and he…" Ellie's eyes started to squeeze shut and a tear escaped from her left one that she quickly swept away.

"He said you couldn't."

"Yes! Exactly. And then…" she said with some indignation, "Then he said he'd only stop after he'd talked to _you_." Ellie said in a rush. A few moments passed during which she stopped searching Chuck's face for empathy and started playing back what he'd just said in her mind. Something in her brother's tone got her attention.

"Wait, Chuck, do you know something about this?" Her voice began to rise, signaling the beginning of grief transforming to anger. Chuck saw the storm approaching, he had to do something fast. But he was never good at lying to Ellie.

"Ellie…" Chuck started.

"This better not be another one of those 'bro code' things!" Ellie demanded, her tone and volume continuing to escalate. _Ouch._ He had less time than he thought. Chuck put on the best pained expression he could manage and took Ellie's arm, gently.

"Ellie…" He leaned into her, whispering in her ear, "… Emmett Milbarge died today."

Ellie looked confused for a few seconds, as if she was trying to reconcile what Chuck just told her with her situation with Devon. Then her eyes opened wide and she pulled back from Chuck to see his face more clearly. "You mean Emmett from the Buy More? What happened?"

"I don't know all the details, but there was a robbery attempt at the Buy More earlier today…" Chuck looked around briefly to make sure no one else was listening, "and it went badly. Emmett was shot."

Ellie looked around at the Buy More people partying around her. "And all of these people…?"

"They were on the last shift and they don't know yet," Chuck said in a subdued voice, "but they will soon enough. Hopefully, not until his family's been notified, which kind of brings me around to…"

"Chuck, I don't mean to be cold… I'm sure Emmett's death is very traumatic for you, but… but right now we need to take care of family first – and something's wrong with Devon. Can you at least –"

"She's Emmett's sister." Chuck blurted out.

"What?"

"He's dancing with Emmett's sister. I called Devon a short while ago and told him to keep her away from the store while they brought out Emmett's body. She was on her way there to meet him."

"That's why he couldn't tell you why he had to keep dancing – she might've sensed something from your reaction. And if he stopped to explain, she might've used the opportunity to leave. And I wanted to make sure I talked to her before that happened."

"So, I asked Devon to keep her here by any means necessary. I'm sorry, El."

Ellie absorbed Chuck's explanation, clicking off an invisible checklist in her head. Her breathing started to slow and she looked over her shoulder at Devon and the woman, still gliding and rotating but with somewhat less crispness than before. "It's okay, Chuck."

Chuck let out a big breath. Crisis averted. Now if Morgan would just –

Ellie suddenly turned and smacked Chuck in the arm with a loud '_THWACK_'.

"OW!" Chuck exclaimed, taking a step back in surprise. "What was that for!" Ellie stared at him with an irritated expression on her face.

"Why didn't you call _me_ too! You could have explained what was going on and I wouldn't have been thinking insane things for the last half hour!"

Chuck cringed. No plan was flawless, certainly not ones thrown together in a sudden moment of inspiration. It was time to pay the piper.

"I'm so… so sorry, Ellie. You're right. I should've done that. I obviously wasn't thinking straight." He couldn't hold Ellie's gaze, so he glanced off to his left and caught Sarah staring at him and tapping on her watch. He turned back to Ellie to excuse himself for a minute and noticed she was looking over his shoulder.

"Morgan, what's wrong?" Ellie called out. Chuck spun and saw Morgan dropping down to one knee holding his abdomen and moaning. _Finally_.

Ellie went immediately over to Morgan and began to examine him, asking where it hurt, for how long, what he'd eaten recently and a dozen other pertinent questions. Chuck felt content to stand beside her looking concerned and grimacing whenever Morgan snuck him a 'I can't believe you're making me do this'" look.

Finally, she stood and turned to Chuck.

"I think he might have appendicitis, but I can't tell for sure. I'm going to call for the paramedics and I need to ride over to the hospital with him, but…" She looked past Chuck to the crowd behind him, and he knew what she was thinking. Time for him to act.

"You know what? Let me go handle this thing with Devon and Emmett's sister. I'll send Devon over to help you get Morgan out of this crowd. Okay?" Ellie gave her brother a half-smile and a nod, and then she knelt down again to tend to Morgan.

Chuck looked down to Morgan and remarked, "You'll be okay buddy, you're in good hands." He then turned and headed toward the spot he last saw Sarah.

"Chuck?" Ellie called after him.

Chuck stopped and looked back over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry I hit you," she said, glancing up briefly before turning back to Morgan.

Chuck gave her a facile, fading smile. In his mind, he put another quarter in the cookie jar he kept for every lie he'd ever told Ellie. The jar was starting to get heavy. He turned and walked off, muttering under his breath.

"I'm sorry too."

* * *

Evelyn waited at the central desk for the security detail. For what was probably the dozenth time since she'd been standing there, she checked her phone and glanced down the hall towards the elevators. _They should be here already_.

Trying not to be too obvious, she looked up at the ceiling as if to stretch her neck, but her eyes flicked down the opposite hallway towards room eleven.

Nothing.

Behind her, the floor nurses jabbered on about some reality show celebrity having burst into tears when confronted by the "primitive facilities" at the show's tropical location. They laughed and mocked, oblivious to Evelyn's anxiety. Well, of course they were oblivious. They weren't privy to the drama that played out in room eleven earlier. They had _no idea_.

She drew small comfort from the other nurses' presence – maybe in the few extra seconds it would take Vincent to kill them she might just be able to make it to the stairway.

She snorted at the thought and smiled grimly, brushing her hair back over her head with her fingers. _Who's__ the drama queen now?_ Nothing had actually happened to confirm they were in any danger from the man in room eleven, but even then, there was… something _different_ about him. She could feel it. Not that she could explain what "it" was. But whatever it was, it was creeping her out pretty hard.

The soft '_ding_' from the East end of the hall signaled the elevator's arrival, and two security guards stepped out and looked her way. "At last," she sighed. She motioned them to her with a short wave and took two short steps towards them.

At that exact moment, one of the nurses behind her screamed.

* * *

The crowd around her screamed out in applause as she dipped to within a few inches of the pavement, her long neck exposed and her chin raised towards the sky. With a slight turn of her head she caught her partner's eyes and winked slowly, seductively.

When his pause lengthened beyond what was necessary her gaze became a glare, and her nails like talons sinking into his arm. He was looking at the scar on her neck. Then the moment passed and he was lifting her up again and into the next step.

_Pivot. Corte. Swivel. Lunge. And again_. His athleticism wilted her annoyance at the minor slight, and soon she was once more in flight.

The beat was hypnotic. The people and faces around her a blur. And her partner both handsome and spirited.

She moved with passion. With a purpose, remembered. It was almost like it was before, when she was young and new doors were starting to open for her.

Lana Ciudad was _on fire._

In the orange rays of the late afternoon sun, whirling and stretching in the fresh air, Agua Caliente seemed like a distant memory. A murky nightmare that she was now, triumphantly, waking up from.

As the dance ran its course, she glared and nodded toward her number two, a large, heavily muscled man standing by the musicians. He immediately turned toward the musicians and moved his index finger in a circle. The guitarist sighed and turned to the rest of his band. And the music began again.

She turned back to her partner, the tall, blonde brother-in-law of her target. He was drenched in sweat – how much due to the exertion and how much due to his fear she did not know. But it did not matter. He was strong and would probably survive the next hour. Maybe even the next few days. Beyond that…?

During the next promenade her eyes locked on to a color that was not there before. A man, in the crowd, with silver hair and a grey vest. She flicked her eyes all around his location, never looking directly at him.

He was trying _too_ hard not to look directly at her.

_An agent_.

So. The Ring had been correct. There would be protectors. At least two, they'd said. She began to scan the crowd around her.

On her next pivot she saw another man who did not look like he belonged among the store employees at the party. He looked very familiar. Very much like one of the agents involved in her capture at the department store not 100 yards from where she was dancing. If he was here, it was possible that…

_She began her Stalking Walk, circling away from her partner towards the crowd_.

….that other agent, the blonde _puta_ she fought with on the rooftop…

_She reached the apex of her orbit and turned back towards her partner._

…was here as well.

_There_. At the edge of the crowd, a flash of blonde hair. It was her, standing still but with tensed muscles and keen focus – like a lioness stalking her prey. And behind her stood… _ah, perfect_.

Lana put both hands on Devon's shoulders and stopped dancing. She signaled her number two, and he leaned into the musicians. Immediately, the tango stopped and the band launched into "Louie Louie", to the delight of the crowd.

Lana spun Devon around to face the blonde agent, who was slowly advancing on them with the target following several steps behind. Standing partially behind Devon to block the view of her right arm, she reached under her skirt and extracted her little friend.

"Esto comienza ahora," she said under her breath. Then she looked up at Devon. "Be still," she whispered, "and you may live to see your new bride again."

Devon nodded between deep breaths and turned back towards Sarah and Chuck. He looked to his left and right. Were they it? He was expecting a squad of Marines. He hoped to hell they knew what they were doing.

As Sarah got to within six feet of La Ciudad, she saw the woman's right arm move up Devon's back towards his neck. Her left hand was clamped on Devon's bicep.

"Knife," came the call from Casey over her earwig.

* * *

Evelyn stumbled on the stairs, dropping down unexpectedly and almost cutting her own throat on the scalpel Vincent held to it. He stiffened from the pain of his arm being pulled downward, but made no other outward expression. She pulled herself back up on wobbly legs and continued down.

She'd been wrong. The two nurses deaths hadn't been enough time to make it to the stairway. Vincent had killed them both in a couple of seconds. Not even enough time for her to move from where she stood.

Once he had the scalpel to her neck the security guards were forced to give up their guns. She could still see their eyes, their… desperation as they slowly squatted to put their pistols on the floor. She didn't watch what happened next, but she could hear it all. Vincent never even let go of her arm.

"Keep moving," he urged her, leaning on her shoulder as they negotiated the final flight of stairs to the garage level. "You're sure your car is here?"

"Yes," she replied and gagged visibly on her next breath. The smell of burnt skin, excretions and salve from his arm was asphyxiating. Vincent's head turned slightly – he was studying her.

"It could be worse," he gurgled through the mucus.

She couldn't think of any other response. "How could it be worse?" she asked.

"It could be _you_ that smells like this."

Despite herself, she smiled for a moment before remembering where she was and who she was with. It was wrong, but she'd been steadily backing away from responsibility for her own actions in the last few minutes and decided to give herself a break.

Without knowing how, she found her car and stood by the driver door, trembling violently every few seconds. She was pretty sure she was about to die. Strangely, she felt numb. Tranquil even. _This must be shock_. It wasn't so bad.

Then something occurred to her: This must be how those gazelle feel when the lions take them down on Animal Planet. They just lay there on the grass while the lions start eating them. She always wondered why they stopped struggling, but now it was pretty obvious. They were in shock.

Vincent was staring at her, the fluorescent lighting in the garage accentuating the yellow in his jaundiced eyes. She stared back, mesmerized, thinking about gazelle.

"Do you have the keys?" he asked, in an emotionless monotone.

Keys. Keys. Her eyes looked to the left and right while she tried to remember what keys were. Oh, _keys_… right. She reached into the pocket of her scrubs and pulled out her key ring, handing it over to Vincent.

He reached out and plucked them from her hand, and she watched as he painfully, laboriously bent his body to get into the small Honda. It occurred to her suddenly that it was going to be hard for him to get back out of the car to kill her. Maybe he was planning to run her over.

He started the car, then looked out at her, still standing there shivering.

"You can go now," he said, followed by a painful looking cough.

She knew, from somewhere deep in her mind, that she should turn around right then and _run_ back up the stairway. But a question was coming out of her mouth. An incredibly stupid question. But she couldn't stop herself from asking it.

"Aren't you going to kill me?"

Vincent looked at her for a moment, his head tilting slightly to the side.

"Do you know my name?" he asked.

"It's Vincent," she replied.

"Yes, indeed it is. Have you seen my face?"

She looked at the wrappings covering his face and shook her head no.

"Are you going to try to stop me from leaving or call the authorities?"

She just looked up out of the corner of her eyes. Those things had not occurred to her.

"Just so. There is no need to kill you. To do it anyway would be… " he paused to shift the car into reverse, "_unprofessional_."

Evelyn watched as he drove her car out the gate and onto the hospital access road. She sat down on the curb near the stairwell door. After a few minutes, the unmistakable sound of "Thriller" came from her pocket, and she pulled out her cell. It was another text from her son, about a reality show she was missing with celebrities stuck on a tropical island.

The third time she read it she began to cry.

* * *

"I _know_ you," Lana said, just loud enough to be heard by the approaching agent. Sarah stopped and Chuck slowed his approach behind her. The two stared at each other, Lana with thinly veiled hatred and Sarah with a burning intensity. Chuck looked at Devon, whose eyes were wide with anxiety.

"Devon, are you okay?" Chuck called out. Devon opened his mouth to answer but Lana pressed the knife in her hand a little closer to his shoulder and he closed it again. His eyes, however, were speaking clearly for him. G_et me out of here_.

"Your brother-in-law is fine, Mr. Bartowski, and he will remain so if you do what I say." Lana turned her attention back to Sarah.

"What is it that you want?" Sarah asked.

"You know what I want," Lana told her, glancing at Chuck.

Sarah's jaw muscles grew tight. "That's not going to happen." Chuck saw Devon's eyes get a little wider.

"Oh, really? " Lana said, sarcastically.

"Really." Sarah replied, mimicking her tone. "What's going to happen is my partner is going to shoot you and then we're going to put you back where you belong."

Lana frowned. "I did not come alone." She raised her hand and extended three fingers. Chuck looked around and saw that things had changed suddenly – A man was standing behind Casey looking their way. From the way Casey's back was arched, he figured there was a gun stuck in it. To his right, he saw that Roan had been overpowered by a huge, heavily-muscled man with long hair. Lana smiled at Sarah gloatingly.

"Neither did I," Sarah said coldly. The long-haired man next to Roan straightened suddenly, and a red-headed face peeked out from behind him. Carina smiled in La Ciudad's direction while prodding the man more deeply in the back with her gun. Roan deftly took the behemoth's gun and began working his way through the crowd towards Casey.

Lana's smile faded. She hadn't really expected this many agents protecting Bartowski. She thought of Trevor Walters admonition, that she was being impatient. That dealing with Bartowski could wait until the device was ready. She gritted her teeth. There were still cards yet to play. She took a short, confident breath and changed her grip on the knife – making it visible over the top of Devon's shoulder.

Chuck saw the knife glint in the sunlight and the floodgates opened in his head, pouring out a kaleidoscope of animated characters from multiple languages at dizzying speed. Eyes crossed and slack jawed, he _felt_ new abilities become part of him – some kind of close-in fighting, the appropriate technique for throwing knives of varying weights and flight characteristics, and, most disturbingly, the knowledge of how to be lethal with any sized knife. As the flash ended, he gasped and leaned over, putting his hands on his knees.

"You alright, Chuck?" Sarah asked, not taking her eyes off of La Ciudad.

Chuck stood up straight, noticing as he ascended that Sarah had her right hand behind her back, lightly gripping the pistol under her top. He looked over at Devon, who was starting to look wild-eyed from the strain. Chuck wasn't sure how much longer he was going to be able to hold it together.

"Mr. Bartowski. I have no desire to harm your brother-in-law. If you will kindly come with me, I will let him go without injury."

"_No!_ Chuck, " Sarah said forcefully, "stay behind me."

Lana moved the point of her knife gracefully up Devon's neck to just under his jaw and began to push in slowly. Devon's efforts to pull back from it became increasingly more distressed.

"Wait!" Chuck called out. La Ciudad pulled the knife back to Devon's shoulder, covering the blade with her hand.

"Sarah," Chuck said in a low voice, "I need to go get Devon."

She turned to him, a look of incredulity in her eyes.

"Chuck, you know I can't let you do that! " she whispered, fiercely. "I can't… _we_ can't take the risk. It's our job to protect you."

"But whose job is it to protect Devon?" Chuck said, pointedly. Sarah glared at him. "And am I, or am I not a full agent now?"

Sarah's eyes flicked to La Ciudad then back to his. "Chuck, you are. But she's a trained street fighter and unless you've had one of your –"

"I did." Chuck said.

Sarah blinked. "Just now?"

"Yeah."

She stared up at him, her eyes flicking alternately between each of his. After a few seconds, Chuck realized that the face he was looking at, the one furiously trying to make the decision that could cost Devon his life, wasn't Sarah Walker, hardened CIA agent anymore.

It was Sarah, the woman who cared deeply for him. The one who'd been ready to give up everything she'd worked for to be with him. The one who looked like her heart had been ripped out when she thought he'd died in an exploding Nerd Herder.

He gently put his hand on her shoulder. "Sarah, I can do this."

She took a last, quick glance at La Ciudad and back to him, her eyes tinged with worry. "Okay," she finally said in resignation.

Chuck gave her his best confident expression, then started to walk towards Devon.

"Chuck?" Sarah called, causing him to turn. A dozen things she wanted to say crossed her mind; her lips changed shape several times to start each of them in turn, but she never got any further. In the end she spoke like she always did, with her eyes.

Chuck met her stare, returning the sentiments as best he could.

"Don't worry," he said softly, "It'll be okay."

* * *

Bernie stared at the screens, his face a mix of bafflement and despair. He sat slouched over the console, his elbows on the desk and his head suspended from both hands – each hand having grasped a large tuft of his hair. He'd long since given up trying to re-aim the cameras. They had a mind of their own, and he couldn't keep up.

For their next trick, each camera was now pointing at the same person, the dancing woman from before and her boyfriend. They were standing together, her arm around his shoulder. Neither seemed to be having a particularly good time. Which was odd, he thought, since minutes before she'd been having the time of her life.

The woman moved her arm and Bernie saw a flash of light from her hand. A ring? Almost as if the system heard him, every camera zoomed in on the woman's hand. It was… _a knife_. And the line of red down the man's neck? That looked like blood.

Bernie jerked upright, suddenly very awake. After several moments of mental chaos he grabbed the console phone and punched 9-1-1 on the keypad.

* * *

Roan shoved his gun into the man's side roughly. Casey then spun and disarmed him, sliding the new weapon into his waistband under his shirt. He gave Roan an irritated stare. _What?_ Roan stared back.

Casey turned back to where La Ciudad was standing, only to see Chuck advancing towards her. "Walker! What are you doing?"

"It's okay, Casey."

"It doesn't look okay to me. Why are you letting Chuck anywhere near La Ciudad?" He moved to get a clear angle between the party-goers and put his right hand on the pistol in his waistband. "I'm going to take the shot."

"Stand down, Casey. Chuck had a… _flash_," she said, awkwardly. She hoped he understood the emphasis she put on 'flash'.

Casey froze, the memory of Chuck's performance in the Intersect room still vivid in his mind. Sure, he'd pulled off an effective, even amazing performance. But they knew little about how to activate his new skills or whether he'd even get the _right_ skills. It seemed like a big gamble to him.

And why was Walker letting him do this? He thought she cared about the nerd. If this was a test it was a hell of a place to pick - if La Ciudad put that pig sticker in Bartowski's neck he'd be done. Casey gritted his teeth as he vacillated over the decision.

"Chuck it," he said, finally, and held his ground.

Lana had no inkling of the decision made behind her that spared her life. All of her attention was focused on the scene she'd just witnessed in front of her, and what opportunities it presented. The way the blonde agent and Bartowski were reacting to each other; the expression on her face when he left her. There could be little mistaking it – this was not just a government protector. This was a _lover_.

She smiled. The agent could be bent to her will. It might still be possible to salvage this situation. _When the hand you are dealt is weak, sometimes it is best to be bold_.

As Chuck got within a two paces of her, she pushed Devon to the side and grabbed Chuck's shirt, pulling him into her as she had done with Devon. "Mr. Bartowski," she purred, "how nice to dance with you again." She caressed the back of Chuck's neck delicately, her eyes flicking over to the blonde agent's face – and delighting in the look of discomfort and outrage she saw there.

"Devon…" Chuck said, turning to him, "Ellie's with Morgan, he was sick. You should go find them." Devon nodded, but seemed hesitant to leave Chuck. "Go!" Chuck insisted. Devon paused, but finally turned and dashed off through the crowd.

Sarah had seen enough. "Now what?" she said to La Ciudad, to distract her from the attention she was paying to Chuck.

"Now, Chuck and I are going to leave," Lana said, as if it was a fact.

Sarah balked at this statement. "And why would we let you do that?" She looked at Chuck and he blinked back, he was getting ready to do something.

"For two reasons. First, if you do not kill me with your first shot, I will slice open Chuck's carotid artery and he will bleed out in front of you. I'm certain _you_ would not want that, would you?"

Sarah's face grew hard and she tightened her grip around the Colt, inching forward slowly. _Chuck, what are you waiting for?_

"Second, there's this." Lana reached up to her neck with her free hand and fished her pendant out from her top. With a violent movement, she ripped it off her neck and then threw it to the ground in front of Sarah. Then she pulled out her cell phone and began to dial a number.

Chuck watched La Ciudad carefully, trying to tell when the moment to act had come. He was aware she was distracted while using her cell and prepared himself to move. But something told him to hold off, and he decided to risk waiting a few more seconds.

Slowly, without taking her eyes off of the woman in front of her, Sarah reached down and picked up the pendant. She glanced down briefly to see a simple, knotted cord holding a small, grey, metallic cylinder. "What is this? And why should I care about it?"

"It is Plutonium-239, 96% pure."

Sarah stopped moving forward and raised fully upright, holding the necklace at arm's length. Her face was pale. "Casey, Roan, Carina, are you getting this?" she whispered to the mic on her watch.

"Yeah," came their replies.

"Only a few milligrams, but enough for you to have analyzed." Lana put the cell phone to her ear. "Yes. Bring the car," she said curtly. Then she hit the end button and launched an application from the menu. When it started, she entered three digits, her thumb resting lightly over a fourth button.

"And you should care because if I push this button, the rest of my Plutonium, along with a sizeable portion of Los Angeles – perhaps even nearby here – is going to become very warm."

Chuck couldn't believe what he'd just heard La Ciudad say. She was threatening to detonate a nuclear bomb? He looked at the phone, it had three digits showing and a blinking cursor awaiting the fourth.

His mind leapt to Devon, Ellie and Morgan. How close was the hospital from here? Was this woman crazy enough to kill tens of thousands of people just to get to him? He looked at Sarah, the panic in his eyes unmistakable. He might be able to knock the phone out of her hand, _but if he missed_…

Sarah met his eyes but she had no answer for him.

It was simple. He _couldn't_ miss.

No pressure.

_

* * *

Whoa_. Bernie said as the cameras slewed madly between the phone in the woman's hand and the look on the new guy's face she had wrapped herself around. Back and forth it went, several times. As fascinating as this was, all the panning and zooming was making him sick. Finally, most of the cameras settled onto the woman and more or less stayed still.

"Ah, thank God." Bernie moaned. He looked at his watch. What was keeping the cops?

Around the mall and expanding for twenty miles in every direction, the power supplies inside the small fenced compounds around every cell tower were remotely commanded to turn themselves off. As each tower failed, the phones that were using it tried to connect to the next nearest working tower, until it too turned off and the cycle repeated. Within forty seconds, the entire cell network around Burbank was effectively offline.

* * *

The dark brown Mercedes pulled up at the periphery of the party and the driver got out, standing in the open door and looking for his passengers.

"Now if you'll excuse us, we have another party to go to." Lana said as she began to walk Chuck backwards towards the car.

"Sarah…" Chuck called out plaintively, his tone both a question and a plea.

"I'm right here, Chuck" she called back, maintaining the distance while following them through the crowd. Her mind raced furiously, thinking through the situation in front of her – and what she could do to stop the worst from happening.

And though her training was dictating her actions, she couldn't ignore the growing feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knew what it was. And who it was for. _Dammit!_ _Stay __focused__!_

Chuck and La Ciudad approached the edge of the crowd. In a few moments Chuck would be gone.

"Walker," Casey barked on the comm, "we can't let her take Chuck out of here."

"I know," Sarah said.

"I mean it," he replied.

"_I know!_" she repeated, harshly. Time was running out. She continued looking left and right along their path and… something caught her eye. A toga'd man holding a cell phone to his ear, then looking at it curiously. Her attention snapped back to La Ciudad and Chuck, but the image clung persistently in her mind. But what…

Her eyes suddenly wide, she pulled out her iPhone and unlocked the display just as the first of four police cruisers pulled up behind the Mercedes and squalled their sirens. The police officers emerged immediately, their hands on their holsters.

Casey was directly in their view and he relaxed the grip on his pistol, letting his hand drift slowly away from his belt.

Sarah fought the urge to look up and searched her phone's display for the connection quality bars.

_No signal_.

She looked up at La Ciudad, who was staring at her own phone. As Sarah watched, she lifted her eyes and their gazes locked. They both knew. With a cold smile, she let the cell drop to the pavement, where it bounced to a stop. Sarah saw the intention change in her eyes. _No_.

Chuck saw the phone drop to the ground. He was startled at this new development and started to rethink what he was planning to do when he heard Sarah's voice.

"Chuck!" Sarah screamed. _"__NOW!_"

Without thinking, Chuck reached up with his left hand and grabbed the hand La Ciudad had on his shoulder while throwing his right elbow back into her ribs as hard as he could. He ducked under her arm and twisted it behind her while bending her wrist backward. The knife flew from her hand several feet and clattered on the pavement.

Lana had made her second large mistake of the day, underestimating Bartowski. This was _not_ the same man she had handled easily at the art exhibit a year before. With only one card left to play, she tilted her head back and took a deep breath.

"_Nestor!_" she yelled, as loudly as she could. At once, the driver pulled a submachine gun from under his jacket and began spraying fire at the police officers. The crowd, who had been gathering to see what misdeeds had brought the law down on them, started running away in all directions, fearful and panicked.

Lana picked her foot up and stomped down hard on top of Chuck's arch. She pushed off of him and ran left through the thickest part of the crowd – and back towards the Underpants, Etc. Chuck fell backwards, breaking his fall with his arm and reaching for his foot in agony. _Not the left foot again__,_ he moaned.

Sarah dashed to Chuck, bent down over him and touched his arm. "Are you okay?" she asked, concern and relief fighting for control of her face.

"Yeah. It's just my foot," he quipped through the pain. "I have two." He gave her a small grin. The smile she returned to him was twice as wide and made him forget the pain for a moment, as much from surprise as delight. He wanted to stay there, soaking in that smile for awhile longer, but he knew what he had to do. There were too many lives at stake.

"La Ciudad," he said to her, watching her agent persona take charge again. "She's headed for the store, there," he pointed. She nodded quickly and with a last look took off through the crowd toward the building. "Carina? Roan? Casey…?" she called into her watch. There was no response.

Chuck heard her call on his earwig, and looked around for the other agents. He saw them with the police officers, being frisked and turning over La Ciudad's remaining men. On the ground near them, Nestor was lying in a pool of his own blood, having been shot multiple times. Chuck grimaced.

"Casey? Can you hear me?" Sarah's voice came over the comm again. Chuck knew they weren't going to be coming to her aid anytime soon. He turned back to the building's front doors. Sarah was just going in, gun drawn. He raised his watch.

"They're with the cops, Sarah." There was a pause.

"Got it," she said, at last.

Chuck stared at her back as the doors closed behind her. He couldn't let her go in alone.

He clenched his jaw and stood up, wincing when he put weight on his left foot. He began to hobble towards the store as quickly as he could when he saw something glint on the ground. It was La Ciudad's knife. On instinct, he stopped, bent over and picked it up. Turning it over in his hand, he continued on towards the doors.

* * *

Sarah moved like a wraith through the aisles, sliding and dashing across open areas, zigzagging randomly to avoid an ambush. La Ciudad _had_ been unarmed, but she'd been in the store thirty seconds before Sarah got there – more than ample time to find an improvised weapon. It certainly helped that this was a clothing store and not a hardware store. She'd much rather face a clothes hanger than a chainsaw. Or worse, a nail gun.

She heard a noise towards the back of the store and headed straight down the aisle she was in. Speed was more important than stealth if La Ciudad was already heading out the back. There were two doors leading to the back of the store; she focused on the near one and increased her speed from a trot to a run. The few patrons in the store barely gave her a passing glance.

As she sped through the employee-only door she saw she was in an open stock room, with twelve foot high metal shelves on both sides of the aisles which ran to the back of the building. She turned left to start clearing each aisle and saw the door to the outside, at the very end of the hall, slowly swinging shut. _Damn. She was already out_. Sarah burst into a sprint, running down the hallway towards the door.

She never saw the chrome bar coming from beside her until it was right in front of her face.

* * *

Chuck heard the muffled clank and thud come from the rear of the store. Since he didn't see Sarah anywhere around his location, he hobbled down the aisle that direction, smiling occasionally at the people he passed on the way.

He was sure that everyone he encountered could see the knife in his hand, even though he'd tucked it up into his sleeve. He sped up his pace, thinking that the less time he spent in public view, the better.

* * *

Finally able to get the police to verify his NSA credentials, Casey retrieved his weapon and started towards the Underpants, Etc when he saw the discarded cell phone in his path. He picked it up on the run and flipped it open. Sure enough, it was La Ciudad's, the final digit of the "verification code" still empty, the cursor blinking.

Carefully, he backed out of the application by pushing the menu button. He pulled up the phone's info screen and memorized the number. Switching phones, he quick-dialed the NSA operations desk. "This is Casey, ID 017457. I have a Priority One request. Need trace on all IP addresses accessed in the last 5 minutes by the phone with the following number." He read the number.

* * *

Sarah came to on her back, her sense of hearing returning first – the loud clang of a metal bar dropping to the floor accentuating the pain she was feeling in her head. She opened her eyes to see a woman moving around into her view, looking at her with an expression of great satisfaction. With no small effort, she raised herself up on her elbows to face the woman and try to make sense of what was happening.

Lana stopped circling the fallen agent when she reached her feet. She picked up the Colt, languidly ejecting and checking the clip, then cocking the slide.

Sarah, watched, still dazed, as the unspent round arced away from the gun, twinkling as it turned end over end and skittered across the floor. She looked back up at the woman – there was something about her face, something familiar. _Why couldn't she remember?_

Turning sideways to her target, Lana adopted a classic marksman's stance. The way her father taught her to do it, with the pistol extended at arm's length and her other hand on her hip. She aimed the pistol at the fallen agent.

Behind her, the door to the stockroom quietly opened, but she didn't hear it.

* * *

Casey entered the store at a fast walk, his left hand holding his phone against his ear and his right behind his back on the grip of his Sig Saur P229. He scanned the aisles for signs of Agent Walker or Bartowski, but didn't see them.

"Yeah. Did you get it?" he replied to the analyst on his cell. What he heard stopped him in his tracks.

"It's what?" he exclaimed. A shopper near him looked up, then walked away shaking his head.

"Are you sure?" Casey demanded, his voice slightly more muted. He listened to the analyst drone on for five more seconds, then shut the phone in the middle of his explanation.

"Son of a bitch," he said, under his breath. Two middle aged women, a little further away, looked at each other and then turned away.

"Sorry ladies," he called to them with false sincerity.

Slowly at first, then with quickening pace, he started moving again towards the back of the store. Neither of his team were on the sales floor, so that left the stockroom.

* * *

Sarah stared up into the open barrel of the gun pointed at her and knew she was in trouble. She started backing away instinctively, crawling on her elbows. The adrenaline surge she felt was clearing the fog in her head, and she was starting to get little glimmers. _Why __did this woman want to shoot her?_

Then she saw the chrome bar on the floor. And In a rush, it all came flooding back to her – the standoff at the toga party, the chase through the store, the closing exit door…

"I see you've regained your senses," La Ciudad said, mockingly. "Good. It wouldn't have been as satisfying otherwise." She pointed the pistol at Sarah's head.

Sarah knew what came next. She'd been on the other side of that pistol more times than she cared to remember. She searched her mind for last thoughts and only one thing came to her, with heart-crushing sadness. A smiling face.

_Chuck_.

Lana started to squeeze when she felt someone slap her on the neck. She turned, expecting to find someone standing behind her, but no one was there. The pain where she was slapped spiked when she turned and her hand went to the spot, only to find the hilt of a throwing knife protruding from her throat. She looked down at her hand, incredulous. It was covered with a thick coating of warm, bright red blood.

Hers.

She looked back towards the door, and saw him then. Bartowski. Hobbling towards her, with an expression of great… sympathy? She tried to raise the weapon, but it was suddenly too heavy and she felt weak, dropping to one knee. A thought occurred to her, and she laughed bitterly. That was _three_ mistakes she made that day. Then the world spun on its axis and she blacked out.

Chuck made his way to Sarah, stepping over the growing pool of blood around La Ciudad. He knelt down beside her and held out his hand to help her into a sitting position.

"Are you alright?" he asked, in a gentle voice.

Sarah glanced at La Ciudad. But for a few seconds, that could have been her. She looked up at Chuck. At the genuineness of his worry and concern for her. At the stubborn way he valued her life more than his own. At his big brown eyes and curly hair.

"I know I shouldn't have come after you, but the others were tied up with the police and I thought that…" Chuck babbled, when Sarah suddenly grabbed the back of his neck, pulled him to her and kissed him. Chuck was surprised and pulled back.

For a few moments, they stared at each other, searching each other's faces.

Then Chuck reached out and brought her face to his and kissed her again. Passionately. He cupped her face gently. She reached up and wrapped her fingers in his curls. Their breaths came in short pants through their noses, unwilling to break the connection their lips and tongues were forming.

With their fervor increasing, Chuck finally put both hands on Sarah's shoulders and pushed gently, but firmly back, separating them. "Not here," he said softly. Their breathing was ragged and their faces flushed, and when Chuck looked in Sarah's eyes and saw her need and desire, it took everything he had not to lean toward her again.

"Ahem," came a voice from the doorway. Casey moved in to the room with his weapon drawn, but let it fall towards the floor when he spotted La Ciudad. He moved to her body delicately, avoiding the stream of blood, and squatted next to her, putting two fingers to her neck. He looked up at Chuck and Sarah, giving a small shake of his head. Then he stood and came over to them.

"It was all a bluff," he said. They looked up at him with equally confused expressions. Casey snorted. "The phone app La Ciudad was using to trigger the bomb? It's was PacBell's crappy mobile pin code entry system. The only thing she was going to be blowing up with that was her own credit rating."

"I'm betting that the pendant will end up being nothing but cheap pewter, as well. We'll know by tomorrow, in any case."

Casey looked at each of them in turn, but neither said anything. Finally, he grunted a parting comment and walked back toward the stockroom door.

Chuck and Sarah looked at each other, communicating wordlessly about a number of subjects, many of them unrelated to La Ciudad and the troubling events of the day.

* * *

The cell in his pocket began to vibrate, and Tommy took it out, checking the caller on the outside display. Then he flipped it open.

"Yeah."

"Really. Where?" He pulled the phone from his ear to check the time.

"About an hour, give or take."

"Security? Okay."

"Yeah, I'm sure I will."

He ended the call, and put the cell back in his pocket.

"What was that about?" his 'partner' asked.

"Well, it looks like we're going to be watching some video tonight. Something I've been promised I'll find interesting."

"So, what, am I supposed to guess what video store to drive to?"

Tommy looked at the man, a mixture of pity and contempt on his face. He finally turned and looked out the windshield, exhaling loudly.

"No, just head to Burbank. The target location is called," Tommy cringed, "Underpants, Etc."

"Heh Heh, you're kidding, right? What kind of videos can you get there?"

Tommy put his hands on his face and prayed the traffic was light this evening.

* * *

Chuck woke suddenly to the soft trill of his iPhone alert. An incoming text message had arrived. He saw the screen's glow in the dark and picked it up off the end table. Rubbing at his eyes with one hand, then the other, he squinted to read the message.

It was from "999-99", which meant nothing to Chuck, but the message got his attention.

"I'll always be watching out for you. – O."

He unlocked his phone and erased the message. Then he put the phone back on the end table.

Chuck smiled in the dark, thinking how crazy life could be.

Still, he thought, sometimes if you stick to your guns and never lose faith in people, they can turn out to be everything that matters to you.

He scrunched back down under the covers and rolled to his left, easing carefully beside the sleeping woman next to him. Unconsciously, she pulled his arm around her and tucked herself firmly against him. He laid his head behind hers, the stray blonde wisps tickling his nose, and inhaled deeply.

In less than a minute, he was asleep.


	6. Drunken Master

_I need to begin by offering up an apology to the other members of the Authors Intersect, as well as the readers of this story. I am decidedly and embarrassingly late on my contribution to the project; please hold this only against me and not against the other authors._

_Thank you to **MySoapBox** for the beta; she turned things around in her typical excellent fashion in such short order, and I didn't repay the favor. All mistakes are my own._

**CHUCK VERSUS THE TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE,**

**NO GOOD, REALLY BAD DAY**

**Chapter 6**

**by Sharpasamarble**

**Drunken Master**

Chuck stirred, comfortable and relaxed. A slender arm wrapped around his midsection, keeping his body tightly pressed against an athletically feminine form, alternately hard and soft in all the appropriate places.

He felt himself smile. For so long he had wanted this, hoping against hope that there were some way that this day would be possible - and now, finally, it was.

Sleepily, he rolled over counterclockwise, eyes closed as he allowed his other senses to take over. The arm determinedly kept him pulled close, as if unwilling to ever let him go. His right hand reached up to stroke the crown of her head, imagining how the strands of her fine blonde hair must be splayed across the pillow.

The hair was different than he remembered, coarser, a little more tangled. True, he'd had far too few opportunities to run his hands through her hair, but those few times had left a deep impression on him.

He slid his hand further down and the tangles became a thicket, almost alive in its unwillingness to let his hand pass. It became a battle of wills, one he did not intend to lose. He had fought too long and too hard to have this chance with Sarah, and nothing as trivial as tangles of hair were going to keep him from enjoying the moment. Stubbornly, he pushed on, his hand ever so slowly making its way downwards.

The hair wrapped around the side of her neck; his hand followed. As if the tangles weren't enough, suddenly the hair was wet as well. He frowned; had Sarah had a bad dream that caused her to perspire?

His probing hand touched cold metal. His eyes shot open.

La Ciudad's soulless eyes stared back at him.

"AHH!!" he cried. He looked to his right hand in horror. Blood intermingling with his sudden sweat painted garish lines across his skin.

Her eyes suddenly flickered with a cruel flame. "Care for one last dance?" she asked huskily.

He began to thrash, desperate to escape the ghoulish embrace. Her arm locked like a vice, trapping his eyes and lips far too close to hers. Chuck tried to push away, but his slick hands struggled to find purchase on the cold white skin above the plunging neckline of her dress.

Cracked lips covered in oozing sores sought out his. Her breath carried the pungent reek of decay. His hands shot upwards to intercept her descending mouth, only to again encounter the cool metal. Unthinkingly his trembling fingers wrapped around the metal and shoved as hard as he could.

The blade of the knife that he had tossed with such deadly precision buried deeper into La Ciudad's throat, causing her to cry out in pain. Enough strength left her arm that Chuck finally was able to escape, rolling off the bed and falling to the floor with a wheezing grunt. He picked himself up with a terrified shout and retreated backwards until he bumped into the hotel room wall.

La Ciudad laughed, a wicked, gurgling sound. "I guess I'll have to take a rain check, love. I have a feeling I'll be seeing you again soon enough."

The words sent chills through his body. She laughed one final time before her slack body fell back into a wholly unnatural position the bed, her eyes vacant and soulless once more.

He couldn't take his eyes off the knife sticking out of her neck. He hadn't thought twice about killing La Ciudad – or for shooting the man in the stairwell, for that matter. What kind of monster was he becoming?

A voice to his right spoke, causing him to jump. "I hope you enjoyed your tryst with your tasty little tart."

Startled, Chuck cried out again as he turned to look. His eyes became incredulous. "Emmett?!"

His ex-manager was standing there in his immaculately pressed Buy More uniform, making notes on a clipboard. He wrinkled his nose distastefully beneath the wire spectacles. "Personally, I prefer my women to be a little more, I don't know, alive, but there's no accounting for taste. Pervert."

"Emmett … wha-what are you doing here?"

"I never got a chance to thank you, Bartowski."

The tone of the comment dripped with sarcasm the way Chuck's hands dripped with La Ciudad's blood. Almost unconsciously, he wiped his hands on his white shirt and khaki pants, but he couldn't seem to get the blood off his skin. "Thank me, Emmett? For what?"

"Why, for all that you brought to the Buy More, of course: your persistent tardiness, your penchant for disappearing for hours on end, your stirring up of the rabble." He tapped the eraser of his pencil on his chin with mock thoughtfulness. "Hmm. I feel like I'm forgetting something. What could I be forgetting?"

He knew the answer Emmett wanted. Guilt surged through Chuck; his mouth dried up.

Emmett decided he had left Chuck twisting in the wind long enough. "Ah, yes: thank you for the panoply of gun-toting agents you've drawn to the store, even after you quit."

Words wouldn't come. How many times had Chuck endangered people in that store? How many times would he do so again?

The store manager sniffed. "See if you could do something about that, would you, Bartowski? I mean, it would be one thing if they were paying customers, but really, we can't tolerate that kind of loitering riffraff in the store." The man turned and walked away. For the first time, Chuck saw the stain from Emmett's own fatal wound expanding across the back of his vest.

"Emmett, I'm sorry!"

The man whirled and pounced. "Oh, you're sorry. Well, I guess it's OK then. As long as you didn't mean for it to happen, everything's kosher."

"Emmett–"

"Save it. You might as well have pulled the trigger yourself. I find it fitting that I was shot in the back, betrayed like I was." With one last snooty look, Emmett turned and walked away.

The personal dislike Chuck had for the man was no consolation. He was responsible for Emmett's death, plain and simple. The selfishness of wanting both his spy life and his normal life had endangered so many others.

"Don't listen to him," a strangely weak voice called from the floor to Chuck's left. It was a voice Chuck knew all too well.

Bryce sat propped against the wall just the way he had been in the Intersect room. Only he wasn't dead, he was just close to death … again.

As before, Chuck rushed to his old roommate's side. As before, he saw the gunshot wound bleeding from the man's side. As before, he searched for some way to help Bryce, and found none. Chuck cursed the futility of it all.

"Don't listen to him, Chuck," Bryce repeated weakly. "He can't possibly understand."

"But he's dead because of me, because of what I brought to the Buy More."

Bryce struggled to open his eyes so he could stare at Chuck, his mind obviously on things other than Chuck's feelings of guilt. "Did you destroy the Intersect?" Bryce asked intently.

"I did," Chuck answered, his face pale.

Bryce gave him an approving nod, his eyelids sagging shut once more.

"I uploaded it first."

His eyes shot open. "You did what?!"

"I uploaded it."

"I thought you wanted out?"

"I do. I mean, I did, but somebody has to fight the Ring, and there weren't a lot of options back in the Intersect room, what with you dead and all."

"That's very brave, Chuck, but this isn't something you can do halfway. The Ring is made up of the most dangerous kind of people. You need to be prepared to accept both the responsibilities and the consequences."

"What do you mean?"

"You need to be fully dedicated to it, without any distractions. They have eyes everywhere, and they will constantly be after you. If you let your guard down for a second, you'll be dead, or worse, captured."

"I think those priorities are a little out of whack, Bryce."

"Are they? Think about what they might be willing to do to get the Intersect out of your head. There are only three or four ways to extract the data and the code from your mind, and none of them are pleasant."

Chuck swallowed hard. "I know."

"They won't hesitate to hunt down every last person that you care about, stick them in a cell, and torture them one by one until you crack. If you let your guard down or give the Ring an opening, they will capture you and everyone you care about. Then God help us all, especially you, Chuck."

"What are you saying?"

"You know what I'm saying." Bryce's strength seemed to ebb. His head tilted to the side, as if he were suddenly very tired.

Thoughts whirled through Chuck's head. He couldn't imagine a life without the people he loved. What was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to give up everything?

Bryce interrupted his thoughts. "You always do the right…" A coughing fit wracked Bryce's body. He finally recovered enough to finish, "You always do the right thing. Follow the path you chose, and follow it well."

"There has to be another way. I can't leave them all. I can't do this alone."

With his last ounce of strength, Bryce said, "Watch your back, Chuck. Even among the people you think you trust." His head tilted over to the side, the wall somehow keeping the slumped body from toppling to the floor.

Hot tears stung Chuck's eyes as he was forced to watch his ex-roommate die yet again. Growing more frantic, he reached over and shook the dead man. "No, Bryce, there has to be another way. There has to be. I can't do this on my own. I need help. Bryce, I need help! Bryce! Bryce!"

"BRYCE!!!" Chuck screamed into the gloom as he bolted upright, throwing the sheets back.

As he desperately gasped for air, his eyes darted around the room. There was no Emmett. There was no Bryce. There was no blood on his hands.

Or was there?

Suddenly, Sarah was holding him close. Her arms and her warmth wrapped around Chuck as she drew him near, rhetorically asking if he was OK, speaking soothing words, and as she always did, finding a way to make things better.

The guilt over the three dead people momentarily dissipated as the reality of the moment overcame him. Everything about her enwrapped him, enveloped him, protected him. Gratefully, he clung to her, an anchor in a world that had started spinning out of his control long before he had noticed.

In that moment, clarity struck. He realized that he would do absolutely anything for the woman that held him so tenderly in her arms.

-o-

Something was inherently wrong with your boyfriend waking up from a nightmare and screaming the name of your ex-lover. Such was the upside-down nature of the agent world.

The truly disconcerting thing was that Chuck didn't want to talk about it. Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have been ecstatic to have the conversation kept to a minimum. Talking wasn't her strong suit; she found herself much more comfortable with the idea of holding Chuck close and letting her actions convey her emotions. Still, she had to worry about the nightmare and its significance, and her gentle proddings had done nothing to loosen Chuck's tongue.

She settled for the next best thing. Carefully she guided Chuck's head back to his pillow and gave a few reassuring murmurs as she lay down next to him. She kissed him slowly and gently, but with all the feeling she could muster. If Chuck didn't want to talk, they could speak without words.

After a long, wonderful moment, their lips parted. She lowered her head to his shoulder and snuggled against him, intertwining her legs with his and wrapping her arms around him once more. His hands rode around her body to press against her back, pinning her to him in a way that felt oddly like he was both scared to let go and scared to hold on. They stayed that way for a long, long time, just holding each other close in the gentle darkness.

-o-

"Christine?" Roan called out.

The man sat up in his bed. Gummy eyes searched the dimly lit hotel room. The aftereffects of the martinis lingered in his system; he had either had too many or too few, he couldn't tell. That didn't really matter, he thought contentedly. After an adventurous day like the previous one, there was nothing like a night spent in the company of an adventurous lady.

Roan had gone out with the Buy More crew under the pretense of being just as shaken up by the day's events as the rest of them. Most of the Buy More staff had been in the crowd when La Ciudad's man had started firing his machine gun. All in all, they had taken things fairly well, in part because word of Emmett's death had been deliberately withheld from them, allowing the government to deal with one cover-up at a time.

An NSA agent had posed as a television producer and claimed that the scene with the machine gun had been staged for a new reality show called "Caught in the Action", where people from all walks of life would suddenly find themselves as unwitting extras in an action scene shoot. People were supposedly not told about it in advance because the show's producers wanted everyone's reactions to be authentic and believable.

It was a plausible story, especially given that NBC's scheduling was such a mess that nobody would be surprised when the show never aired. Besides, the Buy More staff wasn't comprised of the sharpest knives in the drawer. They had bought the story en masse.

Roan had suggested heading over to Benny's, as Lester liked to call it, for a little liquid celebration of their impending stardom. There, Roan was pleasantly surprised to run into the same woman who had kept him such good company the previous night.

"Christine?" he called out again.

"It's Katherine," she corrected from across the room.

Damnit. It wasn't like him to mess up a woman's name. "I'm so sorry, darling. I'm a little out of it, although it's nothing round four couldn't correct."

"Round four? Were you talking about the drinks or … something else?" she asked coquettishly.

"Why not both?"

The sound of ice and liquid rattling around a cocktail shaker gave a firm answer to half of his suggestion and a likely answer to the other half.

Katherine was a young woman, probably in her early twenties, but her actions spoke of surprising experience for her age. She crossed the room, radiant and confident in her perfectly fitted black bra-and-panty set. He smiled contentedly. The only thing sexier than a fit, mostly naked woman was the same woman carrying two martinis, extra dry.

She sat on the edge of the bed and handed him his drink. He debonairly thanked her and took a long grateful sip. He had barely finished swallowing when the alarm bells went off in his head.

He had tasted far too many martinis in his day not to notice a subtle but telltale out-of-place flavor. His tongue categorized the taste as the second part of the two-part cocktail, the activating compound that triggered another tasteless drug she'd no doubt been slipping into his drinks the past two nights. The side effects of the other drug certainly would explain his feelings of disorientation and little memory lapses.

Kept momentarily coherent by the adrenaline that suddenly coursed through his system, Roan demanded, "Who are you?"

"I told you," she said, setting her untouched martini down carefully on the nightstand. "I'm Katherine."

"Katherine who?" Roan asked suspiciously.

She stared knowingly back at him. "Katherine Brewster. I'm named after my mother."

Roan stared at her in horror before the combination of drugs took greater effect, causing most of his strength to flee his body. He collapsed onto the bed, his eyes rolling back into his head, barely able to stay conscious long enough to hear the last unnecessary words from the beautiful young lady's lips.

"You know her by another name: Sasha Banicheck."

-o-

Chuck walked into his sister's apartment complex at ten minutes to eight. Even knowing that Sarah was watching his back from the car and Casey from his apartment, he was still a bit jumpy. His nightmare still haunted him, and yesterday's events had shown that an attack could come at any time, in any form.

He entered the courtyard as Devon left the apartment, clad in his work scrubs and carrying his gym bag. Chuck winced as he saw the cut left by La Ciudad's knife on the man's neck. Somehow the flat, distracted expression on the normally gregarious man's face proved more disconcerting.

"Hey, Devon," Chuck said, trying to be cheerful.

The sound of his voice partially shook the other man from his daze. "Hey, Chuckster." Devon's heart wasn't in the greeting. He stopped in front of Chuck next to the fountain.

"Beautiful day."

"Not really, Chuck. Not really." He shook his head. "I've been in death-defying situations before, but never one where my fate wasn't controlled by my own hand. I've always had the paddle or the rip cord in my hand, but yesterday…" He stared off into space; Chuck could almost hear the notes of the tango playing in his head.

"I know, Devon. I've been there, believe me, I've been there far too often."

Devon gathered himself as if ashamed. "I had to lie to Ellie. I had to make up a story about the cut on my neck, and about why I was dancing with that woman, and about why I've been so freaked out that I hardly slept last night."

"I'm sorry. I really am. I wish there was something I could to help fix things."

"I don't get it, Chuck. How do you live like this?"

Chuck didn't have a good answer for the man.

-o-

Ellie was stomping around the kitchen cleaning furiously when Chuck entered the apartment. That wasn't a good sign.

"Good morning," Chuck said to Ellie.

"Not so much," she said, not looking up.

"What's the matter?"

Her efforts to clean the grout in the countertop redoubled; she hunched over so she could direct her weight onto the index finger pressing a cleaning rag into the grooves of the tiled surface. "What isn't wrong? There was nothing wrong with your little hobbit of a friend. We ran every test conceivable and he turned out to be perfectly healthy. Then Devon showed up; he looked so relieved to see me, but then he just wasn't himself. He wouldn't talk to me at all about Emmett's sister, and if I didn't know better I would have said he was hiding something from me. To top it off I had to work a twelve-hour shift and got home just in time to have another awkward conversation with my husband before he needed to leave to work his own twelve-hour shift."

She stood up and dropped the rag in disgust. "This is supposed to be our honeymoon period, Chuck. It's not supposed to be like this."

"I'm sorry, sis," Chuck said with genuine feeling.

Neither what Chuck said nor the emotion behind it seemed to help much. She did calm down slightly and said, "Oh, don't be. None of this is your fault."

If Ellie hadn't gone back to her cleaning at that moment, she might have seen a face that disagreed with that assessment.

-o-

Chuck walked into the Buy More just after eight-forty. News of Emmett's death was going to be delivered to the employees at nine o'clock, and the government had asked Chuck to be there and to use his relationship with the employees to confirm that people had bought the cover stories.

Somebody had clearly notified Buy More headquarters, because maroon-shirted corporate employees were on site both to deliver the news and for grief counseling. As Chuck went to grab a cup of coffee in the break room, he found somebody already taking advantage of the latter.

Morgan stretched across three plastic chairs set up side-by-side as what must have been an uncomfortable makeshift couch. He said, "See, my friend asked me for a favor. Well, in fairness, not just a friend. The term 'friend' really doesn't do justice to the type of bond that exists between Chuck and me. We've been through it all: school … work … the infamous String Cheese Incident of aught-six …"

"Really," said the maroon-shirt, trying to look interested from the fourth chair at the table. "So it's like a bro-mance."

Morgan rose up so he could shoot the man a dirty look. "Don't cheapen what Chuck and I share. A hackneyed phrase like that could never, ever begin to describe the sacred bond between us."

"Sorry." The man didn't sound particularly sorry, except maybe for himself.

After lying back down, Morgan said, "Anyway, Chuck had never steered me wrong before; he never asks for anything without good reason. But man, did this one blow up in my face."

"And I'm sorry about that," Chuck interjected.

The two men looked over. Relief washed over the face of the maroon shirt. "Chuck, I presume?"

Chuck nodded.

"Well, my recommendation is that the two of you talk this out." The employee slammed his notebook shut, hastily stood up and headed for the door – just not quite quickly enough.

Morgan reached out pleadingly to the counselor. "Wait! Don't you have some relationship exercises that Chuck and I could work through? You know, like a Rorschach test or word association or something?" He snapped his fingers. "I know: Primal Scream therapy. We've got some of their CDs outside; I'll just go grab one–"

The Buy More employee desperately looked at Chuck, who gave the man a reassuring nod. "Maybe we'll just try talking it out first."

"Good luck with that," the maroon-shirt said. He quickly shut the door before his escape could be derailed again.

Morgan averted his eyes as his friend crossed the room. "Hey, buddy," Chuck said.

"Hey."

Chuck sat down in the chair formerly occupied by the maroon shirt. "You look a little disturbed. I guess things didn't go so well at the hospital."

"You could say that."

"What happened?"

Morgan sighed. "You know that I'm in love with two women, right?"

"I think everyone does."

"Well, both of them are ticked at me."

"What?! Why?"

"Ellie is mad because they didn't find anything wrong with me, but she insisted on running test after test. I ended up staying there so late that I missed the going away party with Anna's friends."

"Uh oh."

" 'Uh oh' is right. Anna had to leave the party early to come pick me up. When she arrived at the hospital, Ellie walked me downstairs and told Anna that absolutely nothing was wrong with me. She is convinced that I ditched the party and faked an illness it to spend some time with Ellie before we leave for Hawaii."

"But that's not true."

"What was I supposed to tell her, Chuck?"

"I can talk to her. I can tell her the truth."

The man waved a hand in frustration. "What would you tell her? That you asked me to fake an illness with no explanation and I did it? She'll just think you're covering for me."

He was right. Talking to Anna would just throw more gasoline on the fire.

Morgan sat up onto the middle chair, twisting his back muscles to shake out the soreness from lying on the makeshift couch. "Ellie, Anna, all her friends who wanted to spend a last night with her … I hurt them all. I have such good intentions, but somehow when I try to help out the people I love, I just end up hurting the people I love – and the innocent people around them. What am I supposed to do?"

Chuck thought about that for a long moment before he softly answered, "Just do what it takes to keep it from happening again, Morgan. Whatever it takes."

-o-

Bernie Engels, security guard extraordinaire, blustered into the Underpants Etc. None of the other employees paid him any mind, as that was his customary mode of entrance, although today he was more agitated than usual.

There was no explanation for why his surveillance network had gone haywire the previous day. The company that manufactured the camera console had been completely worthless, as expected. Their system just didn't behave like that, they said. Cameras don't suddenly develop a mind of their own. After an hour of wrangling, they had not-so-politely suggested looking into a good substance abuse program and terminated the support call.

Thus Bernie was surprised when he entered his operation center to find two men in grey jumpsuits lying under his station, their faces lost in the recesses of the system. Exotic pieces of electronic equipment dripped a rainbow of thin colored wires from the top of the console into the belly of the machine with readouts that meant little to nothing to Bernie.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Bernie demanded.

One of the men stiffened at the tone. He carefully set down yet another gauge to his side before sliding out, revealing a Latino man with a wicked scar circling his right eye like an angry child's scrawl. He seemed to be deciding on a course of action; Bernie got the distinct impression that he wouldn't like at least one of the options.

The man's face softened into a somewhat pleasant smile, seeming to fight it every step of the way. "I understand you had some excitement around here yesterday," he said in a soft, low voice.

Bernie relaxed. "That's right. Your camera system got all screwy. It's like somebody tapped into the system remotely and started playing around." As his confidence returned, so did his feeling of righteous indignation. "I told your company about it, and your representative told me that this just wasn't possible. Then he told me to shove off."

Again, the stranger seemed to calculate his options before responding. "On behalf of Eagle Eye Security Systems, I would like to apologize for the treatment you received yesterday. One of our less-experienced service professionals simply wasn't aware of the importance of your call, and we would like to do everything we can to make things right."

"If you ask me, some teenage punk figured out how to break into the system and decided to watch the action outside."

"Well, I assure you we're most eager to capture any such individual, and would be very interested in anything you observed. Why don't you take me through the events of yesterday?"

Bernie puffed up with importance. "Sure. It all started when an impromptu toga party broke out in the parking lot…"

-o-

A Buy More corporate employee delivered the news to the local store staff: Emmett Milbarge had suffered a stroke, likely stress-related, and died in his sleep.

As he stood by the Nerd Herd desk, Chuck forced himself to watch his former co-workers as they absorbed the news. Reactions varied. Big Mike's stony countenance reflected the gravity of the situation. Morgan, with this news coming on the heel of his problems with Ellie and Anna, looked like he didn't think he could take much more bad news. Even Jeff and Lester weren't quite sure what to do when things in the store turned deadly serious.

The maroon-shirted representative spoke with practiced empathy about how tough a situation this was, and he assured everyone that Buy More would be there for them in their time of need. Most people paid little mind to him as they stared off into space, lost in their own thoughts.

Each person's shocked expression launched a lancing pain into Chuck's heart. Emmett's words from last night's dreams echoed in Chuck's ears. _You might as well have pulled the trigger yourself. _The man was right. If not for Chuck, Emmett would have been there that morning, addressing the crowd with his unique blend of ego and tyrannical snark.

The Buy More representative spoke for an exceedingly long time. Packets of information about corporate support services were passed out to the team and described in exhaustive detail. Eventually, the man started to repeat himself, as if his point was to keep people immersed in the fact that Emmett was dead until they finally adjusted to it. Maybe that was the trick, Chuck mused. Maybe if you were surrounded by death for long enough, you adjusted and became numb to it.

The maroon shirt finally decided that he had sufficiently covered Emmett's death and moved on to his second announcement: Big Mike was getting his manager position back on a probationary basis. Roan Montgomery was to be considered for the position, but since he was supposed to open the store and hadn't shown, he had been passed over.

Chuck was so distracted with thoughts of Emmett that he almost didn't recognize the significance of the off-handed remark. He frowned. Where was Roan? Chuck had been so caught up in his own grief that he hadn't even noticed the agent was absent.

As the maroon shirt delivered platitude after platitude about Big Mike's leadership abilities, Chuck turned his back and stepped a little further away from the gathering as he punched up a speed-dial entry on his iPhone keypad.

Casey picked up from the Castle. "Good morning, sunshine. Sleep well?"

Chuck ignored the barb. "Where's Roan?"

"He's not there? My guess is he's sleeping off about four too many martinis."

"Nobody's seen him or heard from him today. He's supposed to be here to protect the store in case more Ring agents show, plus he knew the maroon-shirts would be here to deal with Emmett's death. "

"All right, I'll look into it. Get back to the Castle."

"In a bit." Chuck thought he heard Casey mutter something at him, but he didn't care. He was going to stay for a while longer and take it all in, searching for answers in the stunned faces of his friends.

-o-

"Pick up, Montgomery," Casey muttered into his phone.

"What's going on?" Sarah asked as she entered the main room of the Castle.

"Montgomery is MIA."

"It's not entirely surprising. He had a late night with the Buy More crew."

"He was supposed to be at the store this morning. Buy More brass is in, and he needed to handle things."

"Roan wouldn't have missed something like that."

Casey set the phone down. "He's not picking up. Grab Barker and go check it out."

He thought he saw Walker hesitate. "Is there a problem?" he asked.

"No, no problem. Agent Barker and I will go to Roan's hotel room and see what we can find." She turned around and headed for the stairs.

"You'll either find him in bed with a woman or in a pool of his own vomit," Casey predicted.

-o-

"Bartowski!"

Chuck started at the familiar cry. He had been lost in thought staring at the proceedings, so much so that it hadn't registered when one of the maroon shirts, clearly looking in Chuck's direction, had leaned over to whisper in Big Mike's ear. The restored manager crossed the store with his customary angry swagger, barreling down on Chuck as if he were the last donut in the break room.

"What do you think you're doing here?" he demanded.

"I was just … I was heading over here with Morgan to say hey to everyone, and I heard the news."

"Oh, yeah. Emmett. Damn shame, that."

The man's voice was devoid of anything resembling sorrow. Chuck felt almost obligated to defend Emmett. "C'mon, the guy wasn't a great co-worker, but surely a little empathy is appropriate."

Big Mike's eyes lit up with irascible intensity. "Karma's a bitch. The man did some sneaky, underhanded, conniving things behind all our backs."

"So what? Even though we don't like the guy, can't we at least show a bit of respect at his passing?"

"It's not a question of disliking the guy; he got what he deserved. He knew the things that he was doing weren't right by the rest of us, and he kept doing them anyway. I'd say the same thing if any of you cretins were skulking around the store doing stuff behind our backs."

Chuck didn't have much of an answer for that.

"Now, Bartowski, don't take this personally, but since you no longer work here, you need to be on your way. HR has some touchy feely new age crap they want to go through, but only current employees are invited." Big Mike thought about that for a moment, and his mood darkened. "Consider yourself lucky."

Chuck could only muster a simple, "Sure thing, Big Mike."

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go kick Grimes out, too." Big Mike started to cheer up at the thought as he turned and stalked away.

A large sigh escaped Chuck's lips. Even if he hadn't been ordered to leave, the big man's words had touched an already hypersensitive nerve. It was time to leave the scene of the crime.

To avoid running into Morgan on the way out, Chuck chose to leave through the loading dock. With one last glance at his strangely quiet friends, he headed for the cage area and the back exit.

The wide blacktopped alley behind the store was lined with a series of Nerd Herders, including the CIA-enhanced version Chuck still used on occasion. This was one of those occasions. He felt strangely exposed walking without an escort, and his team couldn't risk the Buy More brass in town discovering that there was an extra Herder floating around the back of the store.

He tapped the key unlock button with his thumb to verify the car was where he remembered leaving it, third from the far end. He jumped off the dock, dropping the keys in the process, and bent over to pick them up. When he straightened up again, he found the barrel of a gun pointed at the base of his neck.

"Hello, Chuck!" a familiar voice said. "Remember me?"

-o-

Sarah and Cole sped across town in her shiny black Porsche. Cole looked somewhat excited about the day's prospects, but she suspected his thoughts didn't involve the mission at hand. She was right.

"Sarah, this might not be a polite question, but I have to ask," he said. "Was it really worth passing on Fiji to stay with Bartowski?"

She tried to decide how to answer the question. She could dodge, which would be professional but would only encourage the man. Or, she could be truthful and hopefully put an end to the man's insistent and incorrigible flirting.

For the moment, she chose the latter. "Absolutely."

"So things are going well between the two of you."

"Yes. Yes, they are."

"Really. I thought it possible a field agent might struggle with the mechanics of a relationship. The communication aspect alone usually kills that sort of thing."

She hid her feelings well. Chuck had closed down that very morning, and she had been unable to draw him out. Privately, she worried about things like that. Could she be the girlfriend Chuck needed her to be?

She would worry about that later. At the moment, she just needed to keep Cole at bay so both of them could focus on protecting Chuck. "We've had our tough moments, sure, but things are going great. I don't regret my decision for a second."

"Ouch."

"Sorry, but you were the one that asked."

"Fair enough. Can I ask you about something else?"

If she was talking to Cole about Chuck, she figured anything else was fair game. "Sure."

"Do you trust Agent Casey?"

She stared over at the Brit in disbelief. "What kind of question is that?"

"A simple one. Do you trust Agent Casey?"

"Of course. He's my partner, and a damn good one."

"That may be true, but can you be sure it's a good idea to trust him?"

"Cole, where is this going?"

She heard him draw in a long, almost reluctant breath. "I've heard some things. I heard that Casey's team was guarding one of the Fulcrum heads in the Castle. I heard Casey's team was somehow infiltrated by a Ring agent. Most importantly, I heard that the only people to walk out of the bunker alive were the traitor – and John Casey."

Sarah hadn't thought about it too much. She trusted Casey implicitly. "The traitor let him go."

"Why? The man kills five honorable Marines but for some obscure reason leaves Casey to live? Does that really make sense?"

"Absolutely," she said, but this time a little of her conviction was missing.

"Look, the Ring is everywhere. The agents we know about were often decorated men who looked to be some of the brightest patriots in their respective governments."

"You mean…"

"Yes, we've found Ring agents in MI6, too, and they're often the people you'd never suspect. They're everywhere, Sarah. We don't know who we can trust. Not even John Casey."

-o-

Chuck guided the Herder out of the parking space and through the alley. He hadn't said two words to his captor in the passenger seat, a short squirrelly-looking man with messy brown hair. The man wouldn't hardly have been intimidating at all if not for the barrel of the gun he kept aimed at Chuck's side.

"How you been?" he said, adopting the slightly off persona he had used after crashing his car into the Buy More last Christmas.

Chuck chose not to banter.

The other man glibly said, "Now don't tell me you don't remember me because I sure as heckfire remember you."

"Ned Rhyerson."

The man looked impressed. "Bing! First shot right out of the box."

At the word 'bing', the touch-screen in the center of the console activated. A web browser brought up Microsoft's new search engine and patiently waited for an entry.

The flickering screen caught Ned's eye. "Hey, that's pretty cool. Voice-activated Internet?"

"Well, we are the Nerd Herd."

"Google," Ned said. The browser obligingly switched to the other search engine. "That's great. How do you enter something?"

" 'Enter'; 'I. M. D. B.'; 'I feel lucky'."

Fascinated, Ned watched as the browser navigated to the Internet Movie Database.

" 'Enter'; 'Star Trek'; 'Enter'," Chuck said. The search results page came up.

"That is so cool!" Ned said. " 'Star Trek'," he said, trying to get the first link to activate. Nothing happened. " 'Enter'; 'Star Trek'; 'Enter'." Again, nothing happened. "Wait, 'bing' worked for me. Why won't this?"

"Must be a bug," Chuck said, making another slow turn. "Try reading off the entire links."

"'Star Trek: The Next Generation'," Ned said, trying to emphasize each syllable to try to trigger something. 'Star Trek: First Contact'. 'Star Trek: Wrath of Khan'."

At 'Wrath of Khan', the passenger side air bag deployed, knocking the gun out of Ned's hand. The bag expanded and expanded until Ned was completely smothered against the seat, able to breathe but unable to otherwise move.

Chuck pulled the car behind the Orange Orange. He turned the key the opposite direction from what one would expect to shut off the engine, just as he had done when he turned the car on, except this key turn deactivated the voice-controlled protection measures.

He turned to look at Ned, even though the man couldn't see him. "Just be glad you didn't say 'Nemesis'," Chuck said with a forced attempt at humor.

As Chuck started to exit the car, Ned cried, "Wait! Where are we going?"

Chuck was too emotionally raw to make jokes. "Oh, let's not spoil it."

Ignoring Ned's predictable pleas to bargain, Chuck clambered through the door and shut Ned and his pitiful voice in the car. He tapped a sequence of buttons on his key fob, and the doors locked and the windows tinted dark so nobody could see into the car.

Normally, he would have been proud of the capture, but today the attack just reminded him of the danger he was bringing near the innocent, not the least of which were his family and friends.

Could he really keep living like this?

-o-

Sarah and Cole crossed the lobby of Roan's posh hotel with long, determined strides. Their eyes flickered alertly around the room as they made their way under the large glass chandeliers and through the marble columns to the bank of elevators on the opposite wall. A red-clad bellhop cheerfully tipped his cap as he punched a button to open the rightmost doors; if he expected a smile or a tip for his efforts, he was disappointed on both counts.

After the doors shut, both pulled out their guns and double-checked that they were ready for action. Both pieces disappeared in the smalls of their backs and under their shirt tails.

Sarah poked her head out to survey the fifth floor. The hallways were largely deserted except for a raucous conversation between two maids somewhere off to their right.

Thick oriental-style carpeting padded their stepped as once again long determined strides carried them towards their destination. Carefully they passed a service cart; a quick peek through the mostly open door to their right revealed a maid wearing the classic black uniform with white frilly lace accents carefully making up the bed.

The corridor ahead bent ninety degrees to the right, revealing a long stretch of empty hallway. The two took advantage of the lack of people and pulled out their guns, slipping along the near wall past the first door to take up positions bracketing the second door.

With a nod to Cole to indicate he was ready, Sarah reached down and carefully tried the antique handle on the door. Her worst fears were confirmed when the fixture turned without resistance.

Sarah mouthed a count and threw the door open to her right. She dropped to one knee and covered the dressing and bathroom portions of the suite while Cole stood above her covering the bed and ensuring nobody hid between the door and the wall.

The room, dappled with sunlight filtering through the filmy gauze of white curtains, was empty and spotless. In fact, the room looked like it hadn't been used at all.

The two relaxed somewhat. The two entered the room and Cole shut the door behind them. One last quick check in closets, behind curtains, and under beds verified that the room truly was empty.

"This doesn't make sense," Sarah said. "Why would the Ring go after Roan? They should be after Chuck."

"Do any of the escapees hold a personal grudge against Roan? Might they see this as a chance to get even?"

"Sasha Banicheck might. We captured two of her men before you arrived."

The conversation was interrupted by a tentative knock at the door. The two froze, then with a shared look they silently burst into action. Guns in hand, Sarah tiptoed to take up position behind where the door would open, while Cole crouched down at the foot of the bed and used the corner to brace his aim at the door.

"Who is it?" Cole called.

"Bellhop. I have a message I'm supposed to deliver."

"Read it," Cole ordered curtly.

"Welcome to my parlor." A shotgun blast through the door provided the exclamation point.

Sarah and Cole were forced to turn their heads away from the shower of splinters and buckshot as the center of the door exploded into the room. The double barrel appeared through the huge hole at waist level, spitting out another blast.

Cole was pinned down by the wide arc of the spray, but Sarah, to the side of the door, was not. A quick kick pushed the aim of the gun away from her, surprising the wielder and causing the weapon to fly from his grasp.

Behind them came a crashing of glass. The maid from the room down the hall flew into the room in attacking position, along with large shards from the window. It was a daring maneuver, involving a climb along a narrow ledge along the outside of the hotel, and it nearly worked.

However, with the owner of the shotgun momentarily unarmed, Cole was free to spin and squeeze off a pair of shots in her direction. One nicked the puffy black shoulder of her uniform and the other missed outright as she began a whirling attack routine.

Sarah took control of the hole in the door. As she poked her own gun into the opening, she heard footsteps fleeing the scene. She trusted Cole to fend for himself, took a step back, and dove through the opening, head and gun first, tucking into a shoulder roll as she hit the carpet.

Her attacker, the bellhop from the lobby, was waiting for her with a pistol of his own. However, he clearly hadn't expected her to stay so low, as all three of his shots sailed over her head before he ducked around the corner towards the elevator. Her shot was late by the briefest of margins, embedding in the chair rail on the far hallway wall. She was on her feet and after him immediately.

Cole was forced to block the maid's first attack, a left-footed kick aimed at his head, with his right hand. Unfortunately, that hand held the gun, which went flying back towards the bathroom area and clattered across the tile floor. Her follow-up punches at his belly connected, causing him to hunch over as his breath exhaled with a whoosh.

Anticipating the next maneuver, he chose to fall to the floor rather than trying to reverse course, rolling past her and under the double-handed strike she tried to launch at the back of his head.

His quick move left nothing to stop her blow, which gave him time to get to his feet and launch a right-footed kick into the side of her knee. Her leg crumpled as she cried out in agony; he crouched and dealt a vicious uppercut that launched her into the air and onto the bed, where she landed limply, her head cocked to one side.

He stood up and surveyed her. Convinced that she was unconscious, he said, "If you wouldn't mind, please change the linens. There seems to be a bit of blood on them."

Sarah poked her head around the corner of the hallway and yanked it back in the nick of time. Two gunshots flew past her and into the far wall.

She took the opportunity to switch to a full clip before stealing another quick peek. The bell hop was nearly impossible to spot, crouched down as he was behind the maid's cart, firing between the towels and the cleaning supplies.

That gave her an idea. She lay down on her stomach, using the wall to shield her body. Picturing what she wanted to do, she took a deep breath and stuck her head and gun out, firing three quick shots into three separate bottles of cleaning supplies.

One of the shots had the desired effect; she heard moans of pain from behind the cart. "I give up!" he cried.

Suspicious but hopeful, she sprung to her feet and ran down the hall, gun positioned for additional shots.

Lying on the ground was the bell hop, gun to one side as he desperately tried to clean whatever chemicals her shots had sprayed into his eyes. He had been watching carefully for her to pop back out from behind the wall, leaving his eyes wide open and unprotected when the bullets passed through the plastic bottles.

She kicked his gun away on the off-chance he was faking it, but the redness she spotted around his eyes suggested he wasn't. With a satisfied look, she forced him to roll over onto his stomach and set about binding his hands with other supplies from the cart.

-o-

Casey pushed Rhyerson towards the holding cell area of the Castle, one hand holding a gun to his head and the other holding his shirt collar at the scruff of the man's neck.

He had to admit that he was grudgingly impressed with the way that Bartowski had subdued the guy. Every so often, Bartowski pulled off a trick that reminded the agents that he was something more than an asset. He wasn't truly an agent, either, but he wasn't just an asset.

Strangely, though, Bartowski was extremely subdued about the whole matter. Normally the guy would be bubbling with enthusiasm or looking for some type of validation, but not today. He simply trudged down the stairs behind Casey and collapsed into one of the chairs, rubbing his face as if unbelievably weary. Mentally Casey filed that away for the moment; he needed to focus on getting Rhyerson locked up.

Planting the gun in the man's back by the heart, Casey forced the man into the cell and back against the wall. He punched a few numbers into the keypad and the door shut.

"You have no idea what you're up against," Rhyerson said.

Casey snickered. "Apparently I'm up against a man that can be defeated by a web browser and a car with a four-star crash rating."

"Joke all you want."

"I will, thank you. So far we've caught you and about a dozen of your compatriots and we've hardly broken a sweat."

"And why do you think that is?"

"Because we're smarter than you."

The prisoner took four steps towards the plastic walls separating the two men. He seemed to be picking out his words carefully. "When people go duck hunting, why do the hunters take along dogs?"

Casey had to think about the odd question for a moment before he caught Rhyerson's point. "To flush the birds out of hiding."

"That's right. The dogs may startle the birds, but they aren't any real danger."

"The hunters are still out there."

"And now they can see all the ducks."

"The real attacks are about to begin."

Rhyerson nodded, almost with pity. "You have no idea what you're up against."

Casey eyed the other man suspiciously. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I don't enjoy being a dog, and I especially don't enjoy being a dog in a cage. Dogs in a cage generally end up only one way – dead."

The agent didn't care so much; he wanted to go consider what he had been told. If Rhyerson was right, there was a storm coming, and it was time to batten down the hatches. "Well, you're safe in here."

The man laughed a bitter, caustic laugh. "I'm not safe anywhere."

Something about the way the man said the words sent a chill through Casey. There was too much honesty in the words for his liking.

He headed back out into the main room, pondering what he had learned. He was so distracted by what he had been told that he didn't notice what was missing for a full two minutes.

"Bartowski?" he called out curiously.

There was no answer.

Anxiously, Casey went to the console and started frantically scrolling through the various cameras. Bartowski wasn't anywhere in the Castle, the Buy More or the Orange Orange.

Bartowski was gone.

-o-

About ten minutes after Cole and Sarah finished tying up Sasha Banicheck's henchmen, Carina and Forrest arrived. Forrest saw the hole in the door and the busted-in window and grimaced. "I hate it when I miss gun play."

"Wasn't much of a fight," Cole said deprecatingly. "It was almost over before it began."

"Much like sex with an MI6 agent," Carina said sweetly.

"Aw, that was a bit off sides."

"I hate to interrupt all the fun," Sarah said, "but Roan is still missing." Turning to the new arrivals, she added, "We think Sasha Banicheck might have him."

"Good news, then," Carina said. "The man Bartowski shot finally talked. Banicheck is holed up in a hotel about four blocks from here."

"Clean-up crew should be here in five minutes. After they secure the scene, we'll–"

Sarah's phone rang, interrupting. She picked up. "Casey? Walker. Secure."

After about ten seconds of listening, her face turned pale. Without a word she turned and sprinted out of the room.

-o-

Roan's heavy eyelids were slow to open, as they were on many, many mornings. Clad as he was in a plain white T-shirt and light-blue boxer shorts, he naturally expected to find one, or even more, gorgeous women in the room with him. He just didn't expect to have the woman in a chair at the foot of the bed pointing a gun at him.

To be fair, this wasn't the first time that had happened either.

"Ah, Katherine," he said to his late-night companion with a bit of a sad grin. "I knew you were a dangerous woman; I just didn't expect it to be quite this kind of danger."

"What can I say, Roan, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"Where is your beautiful mother, anyway?"

"Right here, Roan," Sasha said in her thick Russian accent. Roan had to crane his head awkwardly to see her. She lounged in a chair off to his right, indolently flicking a page on some foreign language fashion magazine.

"Darling. So nice to see you again."

"Don't you 'darling' me." With Sasha, the word _darling_ sounded like it ended with a 'k', especially when the word was spoken with such venom.

"You're not still bitter about the whole Charles Carmichael incident, are you?"

"Not at all. He was the clumsiest seducer ever – which means he had your fingerprints all over him."

"No need to get catty."

She set the magazine down. "I told you that you shouldn't send a boy to do a man's job, but apparently you can send a girl to do a woman's job."

"Girl?! This is no girl. This is a woman, in every sense of the word. I commend you, Sasha: she is truly exquisite."

Despite the situation, Katherine couldn't help but blush the slightest bit. Nervously her eyes flicked away from Roan for the briefest of moments.

Sasha gave Roan an irritated look. "Still, you can see what happens when a master of our craft trains a seductress."

"Now, in fairness, I only had Mr. Carmichael for an afternoon. You had years to work with the fair Katherine, although I suspect it didn't take nearly that long."

"Enough of this. Where is Mr. Carmichael?"

"At the moment, I suspect he is engaging in a little seduction of his own. He's taken up with a breathtaking agent–"

With exaggerated patience, Sasha said, "Where is he?! Or do we need to get truly vicious?"

Roan gave a calculating grin. "I'm willing to offer up what I know about Mr. Carmichael's whereabouts – as my end of a friendly little wager."

Sasha's eyebrows rose, unable to disguise her curiosity.

-o-

Forrest, Carina and Barker mounted staircase after staircase on their way to the eighth floor, guns drawn. Several of Sasha's men were watching the ground floor of the hotel carefully, but they were able to bypass them by climbing onto the roof of the conference center and sneaking into the window of an unused room on the third floor.

The three quietly climbed their last set of stairs and took positions by the doorway, each covering one of the other agents.

After a silent hand count, Forrest popped through the doorway into the hall, finding nobody there to challenge her. She signaled to the others; Cole and Carina quickly followed.

With military precision, the three agents proceeded down the hallway, one covering the other as the last person always slipped forward to point position. They proceeded down one last, long hall; the two women stalked forward with grim determination while Cole kept an eye out behind them. They found the appointed room at the end of the hallway.

Carina took a position on the far side of the door, Cole on the near. Forrest carefully listened at the door for a long moment before shaking her head. She took three steps backwards, then two quick forward before she launched a kick just below the door knob.

The door flew open and three agents had guns trained into the room. They were surprised at what they found.

Two women, clad only in bras and panties, lay on the bed, their hands handcuffed to the headboard behind their heads. In a chair in the corner sat Roan, idly flipping through a Russian fashion magazine as he sipped a cocktail from a squat cylindrical hotel room glass.

"Ah!" Roan said delightedly, putting down the gun he had raised when the door was kicked in. He tried to stand up, but the combination of the alcohol and the leftover barbiturates in his system were proving a potent combination; he quickly gave up. "Forgive me if I don't stand, but it appears introductions are in order. Agents, I'd like you to meet Sasha Banicheck and her lovely daughter Katherine."

The three agents couldn't stop staring at the women on the bed. Katherine had a dreamy expression on her face that suggested she wasn't entirely bothered by the situation, at least, not at the moment. Sasha, on the other hand, was clearly unhappy, yanking at her handcuffs as if escaping from them now would somehow do her some good.

Carina's expression became amazed, even awestruck. "You did this to a mother and daughter?!"

"What can I say?" Roan said with an impish grin. "I've still got it."

-o-

Sarah drove along a dirt road leading her deeper into Will Rogers State Park. The color had returned to her skin. Her face was now calm, if still a bit concerned.

The road turned up the hill, bisecting uneven rows of low prickly-looking bushes with desert shades of green painted with dark maroons. The brush provided a backdrop for the sprinkling of yellow grass gone dormant for the season.

Towards the top of the hill the dirt road became a dirt parking lot, largely deserted. A red-and-white Nerd Herd car sat there, terribly out-of-place in the shade of the scrub trees. More fitting was the brown Crown Victoria parked oddly near in the otherwise empty lot as if determined to protect the weaker and smaller car. Only a few people knew that the Herder, in the right circumstances, was really the more dangerous of the two.

Sarah pulled to the other side of the Herder, perhaps subconsciously looking to add to the protection detail. After she exited her car and shut the door, she made her way over to Casey, standing where he could see between the gaps in the trees to the top of the hill.

"Still there?" she asked.

Casey responded with a curt nod. He clearly was unhappy, but he had put that aside for the moment. He took another glance through the binoculars. "The moron hasn't moved since he sat down."

About thirty minutes after Chuck had disappeared, he had called Casey to let him know where he was. Casey had told him to stay put and had immediately called Sarah. Given the situation, both agents knew that she was the right one to deal with Chuck.

She ran a thankful hand along Casey's arm and started towards the top of the hill.

-o-

He didn't need to look to notice Sarah's approach up the path. She walked with a familiar measured gait that she used whenever Chuck was upset, a predator so used to a life of stalking that she was unsure how to convey friendly intentions.

When she crested the hilltop and stopped to assess him, the slightest smile flickered across his face before quickly fading. His reaction was a testament to just how much he had grown to care for the CIA agent. Few people in the world could have come anywhere close to making him smile at the moment, but just knowing that she was there was enough to make it happen, however briefly.

As she started towards him, he chose to keep his seated perch, hunched over with elbows on knees and staring at nothing in particular. The crunch of her footsteps grew louder until they dominated the distant buzz of city noise and the rustling of branches in the occasional breeze.

The boulder where he sat was a sandy brown mass conveniently perched where a hiker could enjoy the expansive view of the city below, a view that Chuck had barely noticed since his ascent to the hill's apex. The rock was large enough for three or four people, but she sat down close enough to him that their legs almost touched.

The conversation could have started a number of ways. Sarah could have chastised him for running off. He could have apologized for disappearing. Neither was necessary. They knew each other too well now; he knew that she was at least a little upset with him, and she knew that he was sorry. That allowed them to move straight to the heart of the matter.

"It doesn't matter where I go, does it?" Chuck asked softly.

"What do you mean?"

"No matter where I go, I'm going to ruin people's lives by being there."

"That's a bit harsh, isn't it?"

He had to rise out of his hunched-over position to look at her. "Morgan lied to Ellie and to Anna, and now neither is speaking to him. He did that for me. Devon risked his life and lied to Ellie for what may very well have been the first time ever. He did that for me. Emmett is dead," he said thickly, barely able to say the words, "because I used to work in the Buy More. La Ciudad is dead because I tossed a knife into her throat. I didn't even think about it; I just did it. Those are just in the past twenty-four hours."

Sarah shifted a bit. She stared at him for a long time before answering, only taking her eyes off his face briefly as she chose her words at the end. "Chuck, I could talk to you about each of those. I could tell you that Morgan has absolute trust in you for a well-earned reason: you would never ask for something unless it was vitally important, and he knows that. I could tell you that once Devon had more time to think about it, my guess is while he may not be thrilled at having a knife to his throat, he's strong enough to adjust and he doesn't regret lying to Ellie; it keeps her safer and worrying less. I could tell you that if you hadn't killed La Ciudad, she would have killed me, and probably would have killed you and Casey and other innocent people as well."

Chuck asked. "And how do you explain Emmett?"

"Emmett's death was unfortunate; there are no two ways about it. What you have to remember is that you weren't the one who pulled the trigger. One of Colt's men chose to do something senseless: in the middle of a firefight, he chose to shoot an unarmed man in the back as he was running away. You'll never stop other people's stupidity."

"But Colt and his men wouldn't have been in the store unless they were hunting for me!"

"So now it's your fault you're being hunted?" she asked gently.

Chuck struggled to find a flaw with the logic. The simple question temporarily defused his emotion. "Ned Rhyerson jumped me behind the Buy More."

"Casey told me."

"What if Morgan had been walking out with me? Or Jeff, or Lester, or Anna, or even some random delivery person? Any of them would be dead now, just for walking out of the store with me. Or what if he had jumped me outside Ellie's apartment with Ellie there?" His hands balled into fists. "Day after day I put these people in danger. I couldn't stand it if…" He couldn't even finish the thought.

"It isn't every day that a prison full of Fulcrum agents gets sprung. That's why we initiated Operation Zodiac. We're on friendly turf with a number of capable agents. We haven't been following the two-agent protocol and it nearly bit us, but we'll learn from this. It'll be fine."

"God, Sarah, I don't know." Again, he stared off into space, looking for answers he knew wouldn't be there.

She studied him carefully. "Chuck, you haven't really been yourself all morning."

He wanted to deny that, but he knew it was true. He nodded.

"Is any of this about the nightmare you had last night?"

He swallowed hard as images and emotions returned. "No. Maybe. I don't know."

She reached across and took his hand, interlacing his fingers with hers and then placing her other hand on top. "Tell me about it?"

He spoke, haltingly at first, about the dream. About waking up in La Ciudad's arms and being forced to kill her again. About Emmett confronting him and blaming him for his death. About Bryce telling Chuck to do what's right. Like water from a pitcher, the words poured from him. She just let him talk for a long time, her eyes strangely wise as she let him explain every last detail he could remember. Just sharing what he had seen and felt helped a great deal.

Finally, the pitcher was empty. She patiently sat for a moment longer as if making sure he didn't have anything more to say. Once convinced he was done, she tightened the grip of her fingers and gave a tight-lipped smile as if thanking him. "What do Emmett, La Ciudad and Bryce all have in common?" she asked.

"Well, they're all dead," he said dubiously.

She shook her head. "Nightmares are about base emotions like fear; they're rarely about such obvious things. Occasionally dreams provide insight, but most nightmares are just your mind's way of confronting the things that scare you. They all represent something."

He thought about that for a moment. "Let's say you're right. Emmett's the easiest. I'm afraid the innocent people around me are going to get hurt because of me."

She nodded.

"With La Ciudad, I guess I'm afraid of what I'm becoming. I didn't even hesitate before killing her."

"Which, by the way, is why I told you that I didn't want you killing people. I've got years of CIA training and the experience of dealing with it all under my belt." She smiled self-deprecatingly. "Leave the killing and the repression of emotions to me."

He found little humor in the joke. "What I don't get is why Bryce would scare me."

She answered his question with another question. "Why did you run today?"

Chuck closed his eyes for a moment. He knew the question would come, but the timing had taken him by surprise and he didn't know if he had a good answer. He tried to talk it out. "I thought if I ran, I would take the danger with me."

He looked over to Sarah. There wasn't a hint of surprise of her face. "Of course you did. You'd rather leave than endanger anybody. You'd rather leave than be forced to kill again."

"But that was why Emmett and La Ciudad were in my dream. What does that have to do with Bryce?"

"You're afraid you're not doing what's right," she said simply.

He looked at her curiously, soberly.

She explained, "Bryce gave up everything to do what he thought was right. He gave up his career, his family. He gave up his friendship with you. He ended up giving his life."

"So I should have kept going?" he asked. "I should have given up everything?"

"Were you doing what you think is right, or what Bryce would think was right?"

"I don't know. Bryce would definitely leave, and while I want to leave … I just don't know, Sarah."

"Everyone has his own take on what is right. What Bryce chose or would choose isn't necessarily the right path for you, not to mention the minor responsibility of being the only Intersect. There are a few things to consider. But even if leaving is the right thing to do, you shouldn't have just run like that."

"I know that now. I just took me a bit to realize that it was pointless."

"It was pointless."

Something about her voice made him look up at her quizzically; he was surprised to find her looking at him as intently as she ever had. She said, "It was pointless because I would have found you. If you leave, if you're taken, if we're separated - it doesn't matter. I will find you, if I need to, and I will keep you safe."

Chuck was swept away by the blueness of her eyes. He leaned down, his lips seeking and finding hers full of firm, warm softness as they pressed back against his; his arms found the same as they wrapped her body in an embrace.

At the base of the trail, Casey quickly lowered the binoculars and averted his eyes. "Oh, up-Chuck!"

-o-

Sarah and Chuck came down the trail hand-in-hand fifteen minutes later, smiling and laughing. As much as both of them would have preferred the moment to have continued, duty called, and with a fair number of people hunting for Chuck, it didn't make much sense to stay on top of a hill in full view of anybody.

As they finished their descent, they bantered and talked about things of little consequence. They entered the parking lot and walked in the shade of a grove of trees lining one side.

Sarah looked around self-consciously as she laughed just a little too affectionately at a wicked little joke Chuck made. Suddenly alert, she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she asked, "Where's Casey?"

Chuck frowned. "The Vic is still here. He must be around."

Sarah gave a suddenly little cry. Chuck turned to see her staring at him while clutching at the back of her neck, a look of horror and apology on her face.

The telltale prick of a needle sent a piercing pain through the back of Chuck's neck. The local tissue burned as the plunger of the syringe propelled a foreign substance from its tip and into his body. Unable to move or react, he managed to keep from blacking out just long enough to watch Sarah collapse to the ground before he crumpled into a motionless heap next to her.


	7. The Spy Who Loved Me

**A/N:**First, my sincere apologies for the length of time without an update. Honestly, this chapter looked much shorter as an outline. Second, consider this chapter to be the equivalent of wading in the kiddie pool after the chapters you have been presented with so far. Third, thanks go out to MSB and her beta help. Thanks also to truthseekr for many good bits of story advice. And now, hang on to your hats true believers. Excelsior!

CHUCK VERSUS THE TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE,

NO GOOD, REALLY BAD DAY

Chapter 7

by Mystlynx

The Spy Who Loved Me

Did you ever have one of those days? For Chuck, one of those days was quickly turning into one of those weeks. Okay, in a moment of honesty, Chuck would admit to it being one of those years comprised of many one of those weeks which were populated with an overabundance of one of those days. Waking up handcuffed and propped in a steel chair was bad, although not as off putting as it once would have been. '_Yep, it's gonna be one of those days._' Not to mention, the horrible taste in his mouth was a garnish of 'no fair' on top of a heaping serving of 'why me, God'.

He really wasn't ready to open his eyes just yet. Those first rays of light always seemed to hurt, and more pain was not high on Chuck's list of things to do. Instead, he killed some time cataloging the small aches he was already aware of. The list was blissfully short and consisted of bruises, abrasions and some joint pain. Likely the results of being moved while unconscious, maybe even one of those fun trunk rides. '_Well, that's different._' He couldn't remember when he'd started feeling so blasé about being kidnapped. '_I guess after your tenth, they lose that new kidnapping lust__er._'

Sighing in resignation, Chuck popped his eyes open. "Yeaghh!" He closed them quickly so he could properly enjoy the railroad spike currently lodged in his forehead. _'I hate being right. It's always too bright. I wonder if that's on the label when__ purchasing a bundle of knock-out darts. New and Improved! Now with even more sensitivity to light! Get yours today!'_ He opened his eyes again. Better. Now to concentrate on the focusing part. It wasn't long before he was able to make out the very lovely and very unconscious face of Sarah Walker. She was seated a few feet away and shackled in a similar manner. Under more careful examination, her breathing registered as even and untroubled. Chuck was thankful.

The rest of their improvised prison cell became his next point of interest. Twisting his head side to side, he took in their new digs. It looked to have once been an office. The walls were that bland and uninspiring beige; you know, the kind of color that made falling asleep at work unavoidable. Steel filing cabinets occupied one end of the room. To his right was the only door and, to the left, a desk was pushed against the wall to make room for the current occupants. A window was behind him, looking out onto empty space covered over by a steel girder roof. Probably a warehouse or industrial site.

Further musings were put on hold as Sarah stirred. He watched her tentative tugs to confirm the presence of bindings at wrists and ankles. As she raised her head, Chuck called out a warning, "Sarah, wait, don't open..."

"Yeaghh!" She snapped her eyes closed, face tight with the unwelcome onset of railroad spike sensations.

"...your eyes."

"Thanks for the warning," she grumbled, cracking her eyes open more slowly this time.

"You're welcome." Curious, Chuck watched as Sarah started working her tongue and jaw in an odd manner. It took a few moments for him to make the connection. "Yeah, it's sort of like sweaty gym socks, moldy cardboard and week old cottage cheese, all rolled into one. From now on, I'm totally sold on Casey's mint flavored knock-out spray. Maybe we could start a side business?"

Sarah snorted. "You want to make money outfitting bad guys?" Continuing their banter for the benefit of anyone that might be listening, she took stock of their surroundings.

"You have to admit, it would be much nicer to wake up with fresh breath after a kidnapping. If we make a few bucks doing it, hey, that's the American way. The hard part will be convincing Casey to let go of his favorite toys." Chuck's laughter sounded forced to both of them. Fully awake, the lackadaisical attitude was gone. He was now skipping merrily down the road of scary thoughts.

Sarah could see what was coming. She needed to cut him off before he freaked out. "Chuck!" His eyes flicked to hers, showing too much white around the irises. "I promise you we'll get out of this. Right now, I need your help. Do you have your watch?"

"No, the watch is gone," Chuck responded instantly.

That seemed to distract him a little, now to get him focused. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Umm...We were walking; returning to our cars. Oh, I was thinking how nice your new shampoo smells."

Blushing at the unexpected compliment, she asked, "You like it?"

"Of course I like it. I'm a sucker for a good citrus blend." Chuck's lips quirked up in a smile.

Sarah could feel a little ball of warmth expanding in her chest as she looked fondly at Chuck. "I'm glad. I was torn between this one and an essence of olives concoction. Did I make the right choice?" She flashed an impish grin.

She watched Chuck's eyes crinkle in amusement. "What? A joke from Sarah Walker? Keep that up and I won't have anything to contribute to the team."

"Chuck, only you and my father would even know that was a joke. I think your role is safe." Her personal inventory completed, she was dismayed at how thorough their captors had been. Weapons and back up weapons were gone. Their watches had been taken along with phones. They'd removed her lock picking kit. Sarah could also tell that some of her 'special' CIA gear had been taken. She didn't like what that said about their situation.

"Really? I would have imagined Bryce would catch it too," Chuck rambled as he twisted to get a better look out the window.

Commencing her own detailed examination of their surroundings, Sarah offhandedly remarked, "Pizza wasn't high on our list of things to do when we were together."

Chuck's head and shoulders drooped instantly. "I suppose not. You two were getting busy... doing real spy stuff."

'_Smooth move, Walker. You could have said it differently, like, __'__Bryce never cared to learn such things.__'__ Why not whip out the Cabo pictures next time and really rub his nose in it.' _Sarah held back a sigh. '_Oh Chuck, when are you going to realize you don't come in a distant second to Bryce. Especially not with me. And now that he's dead, his ghost will always be larger than life.'_

Any attempt to repair her gaffe was derailed as the door opened. Three men walked in with identical suits, sunglasses, haircuts. They took up equidistant positions with Chuck and Sarah at the center. Next, in strolled a man who was vaguely familiar to Sarah.

"Laszlo!" Chuck blurted.

Taking a second look, Sarah had to agree. His hair was neatly trimmed and the suit impeccably tailored, but that didn't hide the wildness in his eyes. He was still an unhinged genius, on the loose once again.

Laszlo smiled beneficently. "It's so nice to be remembered. Make no mistake, I remember you, Chuck. I made sure I would never forget you." He pulled some money out and tucked it into Chuck's shirt pocket. "I'm doing much better now and wanted to take care of my IOU for the pancakes," he said in answer to the questioning stare.

"I can see that. You're looking pretty sharp there. And, my compliments on the nice collection of Matrix rejects," Chuck said as he nodded at the silent men. "Can I ask the source of your new-found income?" He leaned back in his chair, appearing to visibly relax.

"Well, Chuck, I guess I have you to thank. I'll admit, I didn't make the connection right away. Weeks later, when I was back in my bunker, a comment of yours led to an epiphany. I realized your description of me as a real-life 'Q' was accurate. I also came to the realization that I deserved to get paid for all my hard work."

"Let me guess. You escaped from the bunker and set yourself up supplying high-tech toys to the bad guys. See Sarah, my idea wasn't so crazy after all." Chuck's grin was somewhat strained, but she doubted Laszlo could tell. "So, who are you working for? Fulcrum? The Ring? Blofeld? Hugo Drax?"

"Work for? I don't work for anyone. I'm an independent contractor. After all those years slaving away for the US government, there's no way I was gonna end up beholden to a new boss," Laszlo said proudly. "Everything you see here - it's all mine."

Chuck started laughing. Softly at first, but it grew and grew. Laszlo didn't like that one bit. He walked up to Chuck and slapped him hard. Sarah winced as he was rocked by the blow, but it did nothing to dampen his spirits.

"What's so damn funny?" Laszlo growled angrily, looking like he was capable of breathing fire.

Choking out between giggles, Chuck answered, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... It's just... too... much. You chose... today... of all days... to get your... revenge." Out of breath, he drew in great lungfuls of air. Calming down in the process. "Is it 'Chuck Week' on Facebook or something?"

Genuinely confused, Laszlo simply stated, "I wasn't ready until now."

"Ready for what?" Chuck asked.

"Why, to kill you Mr. Bartowski." It was Laszlo's turn to laugh. If only he had a cat to complete the picture.

XXXXXXXXXX

"I hate tranq darts," Casey mumbled as he squinted up at the midday sun. Upon feeling the first prick of a needle, he'd dove headlong into the treeline. A second dart had struck soon after, leaving him woozy and disoriented. His initial plan to circle around and ambush the ambushers no longer appeared viable. If he had to guess by the angle of the sun, the attack had occurred an hour ago, maybe two. All right, fine, it was two hours, but he swore he remained conscious the whole time. Casey just couldn't remember everything he'd done. A little short term memory loss was perfectly acceptable under the circumstances. Now, if only he could find the parking lot again.

Inspiration struck, slowly. Give him a break, everything happens slowly while still under the influence of a sleep inducing narcotic. Patting his pockets, Casey pulled out his phone. He forgot why he wanted it, put it back, pulled it out again and started up his tracking application. Carefully, he typed in the gps code for the Crown Vic. "8... 6... 7... 5... 3... 0... 9... " Nothing appeared on the screen. Shaking his head to further clear the cobwebs, "Damn Bartowski and his midnight music sessions." With the correct code entered, Casey was soon walking confidently to his car.

Pistol in hand, he made a careful scan of the area before clearing the trees. In addition to the Vic, Walker's Porsche was sitting where he remembered. Chuck's herder was nowhere to be seen. "Dammit!" Casey shut down the application and dialed Forrest. "We've got a Code Red on Bartowski and Walker. Scramble Zodiac and track my car. Use gps data 2... 6... 1... 9... 1... 1."

Sounding impressed, "Yes Agent Forrest, that is Ronald Reagan's birthday."

"I agree completely."

"I like how you think. We can talk more later. I'll start a standard search here while you get everyone together and follow. Casey out."

With the team on the way, Casey surveyed the area. He developed a clear picture of what had occurred in short order. Casey walked the scene. Walker and Bartowski were attacked here with no signs of resistance apparent. Drag marks led to this spot behind our cars. Most likely, the two had been drugged and stuffed in the trunk of the ambusher's car. There were days Casey wished he could do that. The car took off from the lot with one person following in Chuck's vehicle. It was a long-shot, but Casey initiated the tracker again and entered in the code for the herder. He was not surprised to see a blank screen. "That would be too easy, and what's the fun in that?" Now, to see if there was a bottle of water in his car so he could get this awful taste out of his mouth.

XXXXXXXXXX

From an out of the way seat in the hotel lobby, she watched. The four agents working with Chuck and his team hopped into a waiting SUV and sped off. Surveillance hadn't been too difficult so far. Only Chuck, Walker and Casey knew who she was and could identify her. Whatever the situation, it must be something big to have them all in such a rush. Putting down her magazine, she walked calmly to the elevator. Bugging Chuck had turned out to be a smart play. It had led her right to the hotel they were using as a safe house. Actually, the third hotel in the past couple days. The threat of Fulcrum and the Ring must really have them jumping at shadows to be on the move like this.

Stepping off the elevator, she checked the display on a small device that looked enough like a phone to fool the casual observer. It wasn't long before she stood at the door to his room; most likely Walker was sharing it with him. Her lip curled in distaste at the thought. Using the business end of an electronic master key decryption tool, she gained entry easily enough. Without knowing how long she had, the listening device was placed quickly. She returned to the lobby; the entire operation had taken less than five minutes.

XXXXXXXXXX

"That wasn't too over the top was it?" Laszlo asked. "I'm still new to the evil-genius-mastermind thing."

"No, no. I think you hit it just about right. Menace with just a hint of insanity. You made my heart skip a beat," Chuck commented dryly while rolling his eyes.

"We'll see how ready you are with your glib responses soon enough. Get him on his feet." With a gesture from Laszlo, the minion nearest Chuck knelt down to remove the ankle bindings before undoing his wrists. Chuck was hauled roughly to his feet before having his hands cuffed behind his back.

Hopping from one foot to the other, Chuck exclaimed, "Ooh... ow... owww... crap... pins and needles. I hate this feeling." Chuck tottered awkwardly before completely losing his balance and falling across the nearby desk. Slamming noisily and painfully onto the wooden surface, his cries got even louder. Laszlo's thug pulled Chuck upright and spun him around before steadying him. Red colored his teeth and chin from a bloody nose and split lip. Sarah's instinctive need to get to Chuck was thwarted by her still firm bonds.

Laszlo brandished a small pistol, pointing it at Chuck's head. "Agent Walker, you really don't want to miss this." He addressed his men, "I'm quite certain she won't cause any trouble with her asset's life in the balance. Am I right, Agent?"

She nodded, agreeing to cooperate. Soon, she was on her feet, hands firmly bound behind her back. Chuck and Sarah were led from the room. The hallway was essentially featureless. Its boring white length only broken by an occasional door. To the right, Sarah noted an elevator. She descried nothing else of note as they turned to the left.

Laszlo was practically bouncing with excitement. "Chuck, I'm really hoping you like my surprise. I built it just for you. Consider it my thanks for helping me figure out my lot in life."

"You could just send me a card like a normal person. I get really embarrassed by grand gestures."

Sarah let the conversation wash over her, all the while her mind was looking for anything to get them out of this situation. For now, she would have to bide her time and take advantage of any opening. Their escorts led them to a set of double doors. The doors were opened and they were pushed inside. Greedy eyes took in every detail as Sarah searched for salvation. The room was large and dominated by a metal table with restraints built in. Hanging above the table was a mechanical arm, at the end of which was suspended a gun barrel-like contraption. Along the wall was a row of consoles with many controls and displays.

"Seriously? You're going to cut me in half with a laser?" Chuck's head bobbed back and forth between the equipment and Laszlo.

Pointing to the table, Laszlo said, "Let's make our guest comfortable." One of his men removed Chuck's handcuffs.

"Now wait just a minute, Laszlo. It's bad form to kill off the hero like this. You should know that in every Bond film, he gets to kiss the girl before imminent death at the hands of the villain." Chuck twisted to wrest himself free of the hands holding him and faced Laszlo directly.

"That is mostly correct. Far be it from me to go against canon. Very well, you can have your moment." Stepping to the side, Laszlo leveled his gun at Chuck. "Since it will be your last, better make it a good one."

While rubbing his wrists, Chuck stepped up to Sarah. "I'm very sorry..." He coughed a couple of times, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth and then cleared his throat. Smiling sheepishly at Laszlo, "Just trying to get into character."

Returning his attention to Sarah, he performed a passable Sean Connery impersonation. "I'm very sorry Miss Lotta Decolletage. It appears I will be unable to take you out for that drink later on. Would it be too forward of me to ask for the kiss I surely would have received by the end of our evening?" Not waiting for an answer, his arms snaked around and pulled her in tightly. Following his lead, Sarah tilted her head up to receive his kiss. And oh what a kiss. It left her breathless, but still aware that he'd tucked something into the waistband of her jeans.

As the kiss ended, he drew back, smiling at her. "Until we meet again." He strode to the table with his shoulders straight and head up. Sarah fought to hide a smile when he gave Laszlo a jaunty salute before hopping up on the cold, flat surface. With all eyes on Chuck, Sarah palmed the small object he'd placed at her back. Somehow, he must have used the fall onto the desk to scoop up a paperclip. Now the coughing made sense, he'd been carrying it in his mouth the whole time. He was trusting her to get them out of this; now it was her turn to make it happen.

"For the lady, a good view of her hero seems appropriate. Put her there." At Laszlo's command, the henchmen hauled Sarah to a nearby stanchion. With her back to the pole, they redid her bindings, securing her in place. Meanwhile, Laszlo threw a series of switches. A humming reverberated through the room. Manipulating a lever, the laser moved into position at the foot of the table. After tapping in a few commands, he stepped back. Prominently displayed on the center console, a countdown ticked away.

Satisfied, he turned to Chuck. "Any last words, Mr. Bartowski?"

Chuck twisted his neck to glare at Laszlo. Still in character, he told him, "You'll never get away with this."

"Oh, but I do believe I already have. Sorry, but, I have to... split...," chuckling mildly. He snapped his fingers, walking quickly from the room with his men on his heel. The doors swung shut and locked with a resounding 'Clack.'

Looking down the table to where Sarah stood, Chuck grinned. "Alone at last. I thought he'd never leave." Finally dropping character, he asked, "Are you okay, Sarah?"

"Since I'm not the one strapped down under a laser, I'd have to say I am doing better than you are." Her fingers worked quickly to stretch out the paper clip. While concentrating on the lock, she was drawn to the numbers rapidly falling to zero. "I've almost got it, Chuck."

"Great, this table is giving me a chill." Unseen by Chuck, the count reached zero. Scaling up in pitch, the hum became a painful squeal as the laser fired a scintillating, ruby beam of light. "Whoa, whoa, I didn't mean it, I was happy with the cold table." Sparks showered in every direction at the point of contact. Another mechanism engaged and the laser beam began crawling along the metal surface.

Sarah felt the shackle fall from her wrist. Immediately, she ran to the control console. Studying the layout, she recalled everything that Laszlo had done. First, she went after the row of toggles, intending to kill the power. Flipping them back and forth produced no effect. Next, she targeted the positioning mechanism, also to no avail. "Chuck, I think he's locked out the controls."

"That's okay Sarah. Just undo these restraints and get me off the table. Hurrying would be appreciated."

Sarah's stomach lurched as she inspected the lock on his bindings. "There's no way I can open this without some real tools, at least not in time. C'mon Chuck, think. What else can we do?" She exclaimed, already looking feverishly for an answer. Her eyes flitted around the room, scanning for an alternative.

"What about the breaker box." Chuck pointed with his chin. "Can you get that lock picked fast enough?"

Rushing across the room, Sarah grabbed the small padlock and inserted her makeshift pick. It took all the willpower she could muster to block out the scene behind her. Swiftly, she aligned the tumblers. In seconds, the lock opened. Sarah jerked it from the housing and tossed it aside. Flinging the cover open, she put both hands on the lever and slammed it down. Blessed silence filled the room as the high energy buzz of the power supply died off.

"That's my girl. Now, hows about you come over and get me off this table," Chuck joked with a shaky voice.

She started on one of the locks, "Turning off the laser wasn't good enough for you? When did my boyfriend become so high maintenance?"

"Don't worry, I'll be back to my old self soon enough. I think this is multiple attempts on my life finally catching up to me." As Sarah worked, he kept his eyes on the door. "So, I wonder why Laszlo hasn't swooped on in after the failed attempt?"

In response, his tinny voice echoed through speakers hidden around the room. "It's all part of the game, Chuck. Cut in half by a laser? Oh please, that's such a gimmick. I was very hopeful you'd effect an escape. I have a proposition for you. If you can make it out of the compound, all is forgiven. I will never come after you again. That might sound easy, but, between you and freedom are some of my latest inventions. They've been needing a real world test and what better than two CIA operatives. Do we have a deal?"

Chuck glanced to Sarah. She nodded an affirmative. "You've got yourself two guinea pigs. And when we get out of here, I never want to see you again."

"Excellent, excellent. Let the games begin." Laszlo cackled with glee. Chuck's bonds popped open by remote command.

He swung his legs over the side of the table and gathered Sarah into his arms. "I think we just made someone's day. Although I would almost pay to see the look on his face when we get out of here."

"You seem pretty sure of yourself," she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Who wouldn't be? With Agent Sarah Walker at my side, his toys won't stand a chance." Chuck kissed the top of her head.

"Well then, I should start earning that confidence. I'll get to work on the door locks." She disengaged from him but was stopped by his hand on her arm.

"I have a better idea. Why pick the lock when we have... TA-DA... a laser." He gestured grandly. Climbing up on the table, Chuck engaged the manual release, swinging the arm around to aim the device. Grinning ear to ear, he indicated the breaker. "Care to do the honors, milady?"

"It would be my pleasure."

XXXXXXXXXX

Casey was feeling much improved, physically at least. Once the road merged back with the highway, any traces of the vehicles were impossible to find. That didn't mean he was out of options. He'd pulled out his laptop and established an up-link to an NSA satellite in geosynchronous orbit above Los Angeles. While he waited for the rest of Zodiac to arrive, Casey reviewed imaging data for the area. This led to a new frustration. There were pictures of a sedan followed by a car with the distinctive paint scheme of a Buy More Nerd Herder. They turned onto the highway and after a half a mile, disappeared. Watching the other cars, he came to the startling conclusion that someone had hacked the satellite and looped an image to cover the getaway. Breaking into an NSA satellite took some serious juice. Not that Casey doubted the Ring could do it if they wished.

It wasn't the best plan, but Casey was scrolling out along the highway in the last known direction of the kidnappers. At least it would let him see what was in the area; maybe something would jump out as a possible destination. A glance in his rear view mirror showed him the government issue SUV pulling to a stop behind him. Agents Forrest and Montgomery hopped out of the passenger side and hustled to join him in the Vic.

"Anything on the whereabouts of Bartowski and Walker?" Forrest asked in her somewhat emotionless and measured tones. The lady was all business. Casey liked that about her.

"Are we certain that the young couple didn't run off for a little one on one time?" Roan put forth to the other occupants.

Casey tossed him one of the darts. "Not unless they've gone and made some new friends. That's not a government issue tranq; it's a custom job."

After inspecting the small projectile, Roan questioned, "Custom? Are you sure?" Casey turned a hard-edged stare on Roan. "Of course you're sure. I totally concur Colonel Casey."

Alex jumped back in to the conversation. "What else do we have, Casey?"

They watched the feed from the satellite, looking for anything that might speak of a culprit or location. Failing that, they continued with Casey's projection. Other than a couple of industrial parks and scattered housing projects, it was pretty unremarkable terrain. Forrest suggested they travel that way and switch to live monitoring in the meantime. Possibly some ground activity might tip them off. Casey placed a call to Cole and Carina ,waiting in the SUV, to inform them of the plan. Forming a two vehicle convoy, they pulled onto the road.

XXXXXXXXXX

"All right, so what was with that name back there? Lotta Decolletage?" Sarah asked as she poked her head out to survey the hallway. A few wisps of smoke still hung in the air after burning through the door, otherwise, the coast was clear.

"Every Bond movie has at least one Bond girl. And they traditionally have very interesting names. It was the best I could do on short notice." Chuck peeked over her shoulder. "Where to?"

"I saw an elevator back that way. We should get to the ground floor first, then find a way out." Sarah took the lead, cautiously advancing down the hall. "I think I'm hurt. Is that the first thing that comes to mind when you look at me?" Her voice was playful.

Flustered, Chuck stammered out, "Um...well...no, no, not at all. Not that you don't....I mean you have really nice... tops... er... blouses... among other assets... choices! Wardrobe choices. I think I'm going to stop now."

She peered over her shoulder to see Chuck in full blush. "Really? That's what attracts you, I wear nice clothes?"

"That's not what I meant, Sarah. Without your clothes, I still think you're beautiful." Chuck stumbled when his brain slapped him upside the head and informed him of the meaning of his statement.

Sarah's hand flew to her mouth, covering a fleeting grin. "Ahh, now we're getting somewhere. When you look at me, you picture me naked. Is this a habit of yours, Mr. Bartowski; objectifying women?"

"I don't look at other women like that," Chuck huffed at the accusation.

"So, that means you only look at me like that." Sarah pushed the call button for the elevator, turning to face Chuck head on and standing awfully close.

Flushing an even brighter red, Chuck replied in a rush, "Yes!... Wait, no!" Sarah pouted. "Agent Walker, you are enjoying this way too much. I will have my revenge."

Up on tip-toes, Sarah was nose to nose with Chuck. "Are you sure about that? I'm a big, bad CIA agent. Think you've got what it takes, 007?"

Chuck was saved from responding by the oh-so pleasant ding of an arriving elevator car. They shuffled in through the open doors. He pressed the button for the ground floor. As the doors closed, he turned to Sarah to continue their conversation.

He'd been about to speak when Laszlo interrupted, "Oh, very good choice. Very good. I'm particularly proud of this one." Adopting a businesslike tone, he resumed talking, "If you really want to make a name for yourself, this baby does the trick. It will definitely make your enemies think twice about messing with you. My 'Menofsky Water Trap', patents pending, is almost completely self-contained. It fits in most SUV's and mini-vans for ease of transport. All you need is a water source to connect to. Readily available in most office complexes by tapping into the sprinkler system's main line."

"Oh my God. He's using us to make a commercial!" Chuck exclaimed.

Sarah pointed. "The escape hatch. Boost me up." Chuck laced his fingers, she stepped up and he lifted. Pushing for all she was worth, the panel stubbornly refused to budge.

Laszlo droned on, "With some minor preparation, you ensure your victim cannot escape. The included slicer software will allow anyone with a laptop to take control of internal systems and bring the elevator to you. You attach the filling interface to the outer door and once the car arrives, just throw the switch. It will fill the elevator car in 30 to 45 seconds. After eight minutes, forced air will push the water from the car, drying the majority of the interior."

Chuck and Sarah looked as one to the display. They were almost to the ground floor.

"The mechanism stores quickly. Ten minutes start to finish, and you can be on your way. Leaving behind a drowning victim that will have the police scratching their heads. And now, for a live demonstration." Laszlo finished his spiel. The lights went out as power was cut to the elevator car.

"Sarah, how long can you hold your breath? Eight minutes is a little outside my ability range," Chuck said rapidly.

"Mine too." Sarah advanced on the doors, trying to wedge her fingers into the gap. "Help me with this. Maybe we can get them open."

He leapt to assist. They both fought for purchase, but the metal was unyielding. A threatening clank sounded from the other side of the barrier. Both of them backed away in haste. The door seam split fractionally. Before either could move, water spilled through the opening to swirl at their feet.

Sarah was surprised as Chuck peeled off his shoes. His words even more surprising. "Sarah, take off your pants!" Already dropping his zipper, Chuck urged, "Trust me, Sarah, just do it. We don't have much time."

She did the only thing she could: she put her trust in Chuck. Shucking her boots quickly, Sarah struggled to slip her belt free. Chuck had his pants off and was hurriedly tying a knot at the end of each pant leg. Sparing the occasional glance at the rising water, her anxiety grew. The wet pants resisted as she pushed them down her legs.

In rapid-fire sentences, Chuck explained the plan, "Get your pants and tie them off like this. Make sure the zipper is closed and get them good and wet." He swirled his trousers through the hip high water. "Grab the waist band, hold the pants above your head and bring them down quickly. Hold tight and keep it submerged so the air can't escape. The wet fabric should hold an air reservoir long enough."

In her haste to comply and with the water rising rapidly around her, the attempt was poor. Sarah's jeans did not inflate as completely as Chuck's had. She moved to try again but Chuck stopped her. "You won't have the room for another good swing. We should have enough between us." He smiled encouragingly.

The time for talking over, they spent the last inches of free space pulling air in deeply, pushing every last iota of oxygen into their bodies they could. Sinking down into the flooded elevator car, improvised air sacks held suspended next to their heads, the two knew this would be the longest eight minutes of their lives. Well, the longest eight minutes so far this week. Neither of them was that much of an optimist.

Holding out on the initial breath as long as he dared, Chuck was the first to poke his head into his unconventional air bladder. Sarah followed suit shortly after, forcing herself to go a little longer in the hopes she wouldn't find it necessary to share with Chuck. They kept their air reserves off to the side, allowing their exhalations to bubble away. The thinking being that it would keep the air fresher without all the excess carbon dioxide they were producing.

Darkness crowded the edges of her vision after the first few minutes had elapsed. Still, she pushed on a few seconds longer before taking each precious breath from her deficient supply of air. The concern was etched on his face as he floated nearer. Unable to speak, they carried on the well rehearsed conversation that defined their professional roles from memory. A debate so familiar, they could almost hear each other's words. Hers spoke of the greater good and self sacrifice, the ultimate sacrifice if necessary. His always placed the needs of the one over the many; more specifically the need for her to live with him, not die for him.

Sarah knew it was her duty to make him see reason. He was the one that was important and needed the oxygen to survive. Her head lolled to the side, bubbles of air escaping from slackening lips. Vivid images exploded before her eyes, the early stages of hypoxia fueled hallucinations. A woman, alone, always alone. No one knocking at her hotel room door. A car with an empty passenger seat that was a cold comfort to the driver. Watching his casket sink into the ground with a part of her soul trapped inside. Would she have a life without him? Is this what tore at his heart every time she put herself in danger? It hurt, no one ever said it would hurt like this.

One thought broke through the deepening haze, time to breathe. Struggling to bring her chin up, she spied her lifeline floating spent and just out of reach. Her traitorous hands having already lost the battle. Sarah's world shrank to encompass the most amazing brown eyes she'd ever seen. Lips, colder than she remembered, pressed to hers. To hell with duty. Mouth opening, she took the offered breath. Selfish? Maybe. She was confident he didn't think so. In her mind, encompassing the right here and the right now, there were two acceptable results. They both lived, or both expired. Anything else was a slow death for the survivor, no matter how long he or she remained on this earth. If one would call that selfish, then so be it.

Outcome decided, they ignored the reality of their dwindling oxygen supply in favor of giving full attention to each other. The fact they had to reach up farther to find where the water ended and air began was merely an inconvenience. They settled to the bottom of the car, seated and facing each other. Chuck's hold remained firm against the much reduced pull of his contrived air tank. Their only regret was the inability to give voice to what needed to be said.

It was a full 20 seconds before they noticed the water level dropping. Chuck and Sarah shot to the surface. They wanted to shout in joy and triumph, but were too busy gobbling up air, glorious air.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Jeff, have you seen the parts requisition forms?" Lester popped up from behind a mountain of paperwork.

"What? I thought we were supposed to be dealing with our grief instead of working. I've been lining up a long night of counseling with my therapist, Beer. He and I have much to discuss." Jeff's head never even lifted from the desk.

Slithering closer, Lester whispered to his partner in crime, "Which is exactly why I need to get these forms filled out now. With Big Mike back in charge and that new guy Montgomery missing in action already, if I can persuade Skip and the other herders to complete them for me, I might be able to get the assistant manager job again."

Jeff actually expended the energy to turn his head, bloodshot eyes staring in disbelief at his diminutive buddy. "After what happened the last time, you want to try again? You were a complete failure as Assman."

Sourly, Lester said, "Your support is duly noted, Jeffrey." His excitement returned quickly. "This time will be different. I've figured it all out, you see. My failure, as you so kindly put it, was not due to my lack of leadership, desire, or qualifications. No sir, it was because of Chuck and Morgan. They were blocking my natural claim to authority over the other employees. With those two history, it is only logical that I will ascend to my rightful place."

Sitting up straighter, Jeff soaked in the infallible chain of reasoning. "With me as your right hand man, we could rule the store. Say good bye to two hour lunch breaks. Hello three hour lunch breaks."

"Yes, yes, Jeff. Right hand, left hand, whichever is downwind." Lester propped his head on the stack of forms and daydreamed. Dreams which were cut short by a very feminine sounding throat clearing from nearby. He turned and did a double-take. "Lizzie! We heard you'd jumped ship and were delivering baklava in Van Nuys."

Smiling sweetly, Lizzie said, "Oh, I was. But I missed you guys so much. Regular customers as nice as you are hard to come by. I was in the neighborhood and just had to stop for a visit." She leaned over the counter, displaying her wares.

Lester's eyes bugged out as they slid into her cleavage. "We enjoyed your deliveries. Out of all the people we dealt with, you were the breast... best!"

She reached out to pat his hand. "So sweet of you to say." Lizzie made a show of looking around the store. "Things sure seem different today. Have there been a lot of changes?"

Floodgates open as Lester explained all the goings on over the past months. Cars crashing into the Buy More, terrorists holding them hostage, ending with the latest news of their manager passing. It goes without saying, he played a pivotal role in saving his fellows and was stoically working on in the face of his sadness. Girls like that kind of stuff, right?

Suitably impressed, Lizzie's chest was rising and falling noticeably with her quickened breathing. "Oh my, that all sounds very terrible. Did anything happen to your boss? That tall guy with the brown hair? I don't see him anywhere."

"Boss? You mean Chuck? He was never my boss. We were co-workers. Nerd Herd Supervisor is nothing more than a title, a figurehead really. I was always the puppet behind the throne. Not that it matters, he quit." Lester was hypnotized by her.

"Would you look at the time. I'm sorry, Larry, but I must be going. I had a lovely chat." Lizzie hurried from the store. She'd bugged the Nerd Herd desk just in case. Chuck might not be as easy to find as she'd thought, but find him she would.

"It's Lester," he called out, eyes bobbing side to side in synch with her swaying hips.

XXXXXXXXXX

"I'm somewhat disappointed at your survival. I have to admit though, that trick with the pants was genius. I can't wait to see how you respond to your next encounter. Oh, this is turning out to be so much fun," Laszlo gloated.

Once out of the elevator, Chuck and Sarah discovered the factory floor was something of a maze. Hallways leading nowhere, dead ending on them, or turning and twisting back on themselves. They resisted opening any of the myriad doors for fear of finding a new trap ready and waiting. Chuck caught her frequently glancing his way.

"What?" he broke down and asked.

Caught, she had no recourse but to respond. "I have to know. Where did you come up with that pants idea? Was it the … you know." She pointed to her head in case Laszlo was listening.

"No, Sarah, it didn't come from my CIA job. I suddenly remembered it from Navy survival training." Chuck grinned at her look of surprise.

Furrowing her brow in puzzlement, she said, "You were never in the Navy. I'd remember that from your file."

"No, I never enlisted. For a while, I was afraid my scholarship to Stanford was going to fall through. I'd convinced myself I needed a back-up plan to pay for college. So I stopped in to a recruiter's office one day and was looking at ROTC programs. Once those guys find out you've got good grades, they're relentless. I left there loaded down with materials. One of the things they gave me were some video clips on basic training. I'll admit to being a little curious and watched them. In water survival, they demonstrated using uniform pants as a temporary flotation device. I figured it was worth a try as a short term oxygen supply." Chuck came to a stop. "Sarah, these hallways aren't getting us anywhere. We have to open some of these doors."

Still absorbing Chuck's surprising revelation, Sarah was a bit slow on the uptake. After a few seconds of silence, she answered, "We don't know what's behind any of these doors. I won't risk it unless absolutely necessary."

"I think it's necessary, Sarah. We've been walking in circles. What could be the harm in opening a door?" To emphasize, he swung open the nearest one. Sarah watched him quickly go pale. Chuck slammed the door shut and walked away. "That was disturbing. And... ew."

She eyed the door, pondering. Tossing the impulse aside, she trailed after Chuck. "How about I open the next one?" she teased.

"I'll let you open the next two." Chuck stopped before a randomly selected door. "Be my guest."

He looked away as Sarah cautiously pulled it open. "That's not what I expected. You can look Chuck, it's safe." She walked in, eyes traveling over row upon row of ordinary household objects. Organized into sections of like items, she observed lamps, ashtrays, bowls, picture frames and other odds and ends.

From behind, Chuck spouted indignantly, "I open a door and see... something that will not be discussed, ever. You find the garage sale room. What is all this stuff? Ooh, a toy section! Erm, I mean collectibles." Chuck rushed over. "Action figures, cool." Walking along and pointing, he said, "Had it, had it, had it, traded it, had it, wanted it. Come to poppa." He scooped up one of the small toys.

Meanwhile, Sarah's attention was focused on a rack of containers. Each one was carefully labeled to match an item in the room. She slid out one of the bins to peer inside. "Chuck, you should put that down."

"Why?"

"If I'm right, everything in this room is a disguised bomb and these are the detonators." She held one of the devices up for him to see.

Carefully returning the action figure to it's spot on the shelf, Chuck looked at it longingly. "The man is truly evil."

"You'll get no argument from me." Sarah checked down each aisle. "There's a door at the other end of the room, should lead us to someplace new. Still my turn right?"

"Yes, I suppose it is." Chuck crowded behind her, feeling a little anxious surrounded by explosives.

The next door yielded another hallway. Scanning to the right and left, they found a door at each end of a short stretch of hall. After a quick deliberation, they agreed on the next door to try.

"Sarah, I'm feeling really good about this door. Got a positive vibe going." Chuck turned the knob, sending the door swinging open. Inside, they were greeted by a strange sight indeed. A large number of men and women, all dressed in black, ninja-like outfits, were climbing ropes, sparring, throwing knives and shuriken or working with other weapons. "Very cool."

Pulling the door shut quickly, Sarah dragged Chuck to the far end of the corridor. "What do you mean, very cool?"

"I always wanted to open a door to a room of people being trained like in James Bond movies." Chuck couldn't stop the lopsided grin.

"Just hope they stay in that room, or you won't be thinking it's quite so cool. Let's try the other door. I'd like to put some distance between us and them." She was already opening it as she spoke. Damp, heavy air rolled out to meet them. A large portion of the room was dominated by a water tank set into the floor. Ripples marred the surface as something, or many somethings, swam the depths. The only other notable furnishings were a long control console and what looked to be small railroad tracks encircling the tank before disappearing through a gap in the wall.

"I see you've found one of my play rooms. This is more a hobby than one of my business ventures. But, I think you might find it intriguing. Oh, for an added bonus, the door behind you is now locked. Across the room is your way out, have fun getting to it." Laszlo chuckled before cutting off the transmission.

Eyes drawn to shadowy shapes under the water, Chuck asked, "Sarah, tell me you pocketed an explosive knick-knack or two from the Bombs-R-Us room."

"Sorry. It wouldn't have done any good. The detonators were slotted to accept a code key of some kind." Sarah walked to the console. "Without that, they can't be armed. Let's see what we have here." She flipped through a series of switches, each one giving a different camera view of the tank or room on a central display.

Chuck was drawn to a row of toggles with red LED's glowing below each one. He pushed a toggle to it's other position. The associated red LED went dim as a green one came to life. His gaze roved the console, coming to rest on a large knob. "Here goes nothing." Chuck gave the knob a quarter turn. A low whirring sound drifted from the nearby gap in the wall. The duo watched as a small trolley-like vehicle emerged from the hole and rolled along one of the available tracks. Attached to the top of the trolley was a human silhouette cut from thin plywood.

"There's something you don't see every day," said Chuck. "Any thoughts on what it's for?"

Sarah shook her head. The answer was soon provided as a fin broke the surface of the water, angling straight at the figure. A thin beam of light speared the moving target with a sizzle and puff of smoke. This process was repeated twice more as the target trundled around the aquarium.

"Oh no he didn't!" Chuck cried out.

"I'd have to say he did," Sarah responded. "And that's not the best part. Look at that." She pointed to the simulated person as it rounded the far side of the tank. They could now plainly see a picture of Chuck was attached to the wood, fresh holes glowed at the edges with licks of flame.

Aiming his voice at the ceiling, Chuck yelled, "Dude, obsess much?"

Studying the controls in front of him, he searched for an answer. "Okay, we've got to cross this room. Between us and freedom, Laszlo, a crazy person, has placed sharks with frikkin laser beams. And, to top it all off, he's been using pictures of me to train them. Does that about cover it?"

"Yep, I'd say that summarizes our situation quite well." Sarah pored over her section of the control panel.

Chuck snapped his fingers. "I've got it. We'll just give these guys a bunch of targets to shoot at." He flicked more of the toggles to the on position and then spun the knob a little further. The whirring grew to a loud buzzing as more trolleys leapt from the gap to join the first. "I think we should duck," Chuck advised as he pulled Sarah down behind the console with him.

"All right Chuck, I'll bite. What are we waiting for?" Sarah questioned as she took a seat next to him on the floor.

Laser beams criss-crossed the room as the sharks engaged in a different kind of feeding frenzy. Chuck leaned back against the console as he talked. "A laser strong enough to do real damage like that is a power hog. Whatever Laszlo stuck on them has to be self-contained. I figure we give them lots to shoot at, and then, exit the room when they've used up their batteries."

They sat in companionable silence, listening to the thrashing of the sharks and hissing of laser-heated water.

"Amanda Hugnkiss," Chuck tossed out.

Sarah regarded him curiously, "Excuse me?"

"Your Bond girl name, Amanda Hugnkiss."

"No. Just no."

"Ivana Mann?"

"Uh uh."

"Anita Johnson, Rosie Cheeks, Shirley Feelsgood, Piper Cherry?"

"Chuck! I don't want a Bond girl name."

"Carrie Mehome, Megan Mecrazee, Nell Menow."

"Definitely not any of those. Can we just move on?"

"Maybe one of the classics? Honey Ryder, Holly Goodhead, Plenty O'Toole."

"I will hurt you."

"Something more contemporary then, Felicity Shagwell, Alotta..."

"Don't even finish that one." Sarah punched him.

"Ow, all right, all right. But I will find you a name." Chuck rubbed his arm. "That's gonna leave a mark."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Hey, this is Chuck. I'm sorry, I can't come to the phone right now. Leave me a message and I'll get back to you as...."

Ellie forcefully hung up on the recording. "Where are you, Chuck?"

"Still no word from the Chuckster," Devon commented from the sofa.

"No. I haven't heard from him all day. Morgan's party is in a few hours and I was really hoping he could stop at the store for me. If I'd known he was going to drop off the face of the earth, I would have already gone and gotten the marshmallows myself."

"Making some of your sweet potatoes for Morgan's going away party? Very nice. Some would go so far as to say, awesome."

Ellie shoved a drawer in with a loud clanking, frustrated. "I'm not sure why I bother. After Morgan's little stunt, I should be mad at him, not making one of his favorite side dishes. Baby, are sweet potatoes even appropriate at a luau?"

Devon thought about it. "I really don't know. One thing I do know, you show up with'em and Morgan will be one happy little dude. He may have been a little over the line pretending to be sick, but it's still Morgan and he's going to be gone in the morning. Chuck will be happy to see his sister and best friend getting along on his last night. That's gotta be worth something."

"If he even shows up for the party. I can't get ahold of Sarah either."

"Come on babe, you know Chuck and Sarah. They're probably off in their own little world right now. Party time rolls around, I'm sure they'll be there." Devon hoped that's all it was. Things had been getting really tense on the Chuck front lately.

"You're probably right. So, since my brother is currently MIA, would you like to be my knight in shining armor and run to the store?"

"But of course, milady. Your wish is my command." Devon strode into the kitchen and swept her into his arms for a kiss. "Back in a flash."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Hallelujah, we're saved," Chuck crowed. Visible through the latest in a long string of doorways, he spotted a number of cars, one sporting the familiar white, black and red of an official Nerd Herd company vehicle.

Chuck ran up to it, caressing the hood lovingly. "I think this means we win and Laszlo loses. Yay Team Bartowski and Walker!"

"How come you get top billing?" Sarah asked. She spied a row of pegs, a keyring dangling from each one. Plucking the keys for the herder from the wall, she jogged to the car and unlocked it. Sarah got behind the wheel and started it up.

"Because B comes before W. How come you get to drive?" Chuck shot back as he climbed in beside her.

"Because agent trumps civilian. Now buckle up." Sarah threw the herder into gear and drove out of the garage area. "What the...." Spreading out before her were cement barriers arranged to form a twisting road course that circled around the factory yard. "Oh crap."

A loud tsk, tsk blared from the radio speakers. Before either of them could move, the doors locks engaged and the seat belts cinched tight. "You aren't off the grounds yet. So, it's still my game to win."

"What is it this time Laszlo? Is the trunk filled with Africanized honey bees? Or maybe, you've modified the exhaust system to vent carbon monoxide into the cabin as we drive. No wait, the interior of the car is going to fill with a quick setting foam that traps and suffocates us. Am I close?" Chuck spouted off.

"Cool ideas, I should take notes. Oh no Chuck, it's nothing quite that extravagant. I've cross-wired the self destruct device into the air bag circuits. As long as you don't crash the car, you're perfectly safe."

Chuck and Sarah traded looks. "What's the catch, Laszlo?" Chuck asked.

"Right, right, there is one other tiny, negligible, insignificant detail. I've disabled the brakes and programmed the car to pick up speed as you circle my race track. How long can you keep it between the barriers Agent Walker? Me and the boys have the over/under at 70 mph. I have great faith in you, so I took the over, put down a whole 10 bucks. Let the games begin."

Sarah did her best to keep the car centered and as far from the barriers as possible. She used the slow speed laps to plot out the best driving line for later. "Chuck, my right boot has a retractable blade in the toe. I'm going to get my leg up as far as I can, see if you can reach it." Sarah shifted in the seat and curled her leg up as tight as she could in the confines of the compact car. Chuck leaned over, straining against the belt, and removed her boot.

Rolling it this way and that, "How do I..."

"A push switch near the heal on the instep."

'Snick'

"That does it." Chuck started sawing at his seat belt. "After we get out of the belts, what next? Break a window?"

"Not in this car. It's bullet resistant glass all the way around. We're going to have to come up with something else," Sarah spoke as she watched the needle creep above 50 mph.

The tires were just starting to squeal in the tighter corners when Chuck began working on Sarah's restraints. At these faster speeds, he had a harder time keeping control of the knife blade while being tossed side to side. Finally, the fabric parted without accidentally cutting Sarah in the process. Boot gripped tightly, Chuck looked at the speedometer with growing trepidation. "You can handle the car above 70 right?"

"Yes I can. The modifications included a very good handling package," Sarah replied with confidence. "Can you think of any way to get the doors open?"

"We can't jump out going this fast, can we?" Chuck's voice was pitched a little higher than normal.

"Would you rather risk breaking a couple bones or get blown up?"

"Given a choice, neither." Chuck turned the boot over in his hands; nervous energy made him fidget. The glinting, steel blade caught his eye. "Sarah, what if we use the knife to short out the electrical system? The fuse box should be over by your left foot. There's a chance it would release the hold on the door locks without setting off the bomb or airbags in the process."

She didn't like it, but nothing better presented itself. "Let's do it. I can't let go of the wheel, so you get to be amateur electrician."

Eyeing the space between her body and the steering wheel. "I'm not sure I can fit in there. Oh man, I can't believe I'm saying this. Sarah, you're gonna have to spread your legs for me," he said, choking on the words, "for me to have room under the steering column."

"Chuck, don't think about it, just get in there and do what needs to be done." Sarah tightened her grip on the wheel and concentrated on the road ahead. She made as much room as she could for him and did her best not to think about it either. Not too hard given the dire circumstances, but he could've tried to not squirm so much.

"Cross your fingers." Chuck popped the cover off the fuse panel. Jabbing the boot spike in, he raked it back and forth. Loud popping and flying sparks erupted from the small panel as he shorted out various portions of the electrical system one at a time. The dashboard displays dimmed and went out seconds before the engine spluttered and died. They held their collective breaths for a few moments more.

"That's good right, no bomb went off? Now we just have to wait until the car slows down." Chuck slid out from his uncomfortable position and gave a test pull on the door lock, it released and stayed in the open position.

"Sorry Chuck, but it's not our day. We have to jump now," Sarah said. "Killing the power activated the wheel lock. I can't steer any more and we're running out of road." She reached over to unlock her door and pushed it open. "Hurry up, we don't know if it will still blow or not. On the count of three... One... Two... Three..."

They threw themselves from the herder, bouncing and rolling painfully to a stop. Ignoring the protests from her body, Sarah clawed her way to Chuck and covered him seconds before the herder smashed through one of the barriers. It rolled another few feet before exploding in a huge ball of flame and red hot debris.

The one explosion soon became two, then three. In shock, they turned in unison to see secondary explosions ripping through a small tank farm before traveling down a pipeline that connected to the building proper. More explosions sent cracks snaking along the outer walls.

"Um, Sarah, this looks really bad. Should we be running?"

Already in the process of standing, she reached for his arm. "Yes, we need to get out of here now!"

Half running, half leaning against each other, they beat a hasty retreat to the open gate. Shards of mortar and concrete rained down around them.

Over the site PA system, Laszlo yelled in fury, "You've ruined my life again, Chuck Bartowski! Next time there will be no mercy, I promise you that. One day soon I will have my revenge. One day..." His words were cut off by the largest explosion yet. A fireball shot skyward, shining like a miniature sun. They turned to see the building collapse in on itself, more flames reached to the sky.

The couple spun back around to the welcome sight of Casey's Crown Vic screeching to a halt with a black SUV right behind it. Casey and the rest of Team Zodiac piled out, weapons at the ready. They rushed to the bedraggled pair. Observing the remains of the structure, Casey quipped, "You couldn't wait till we got here?"

"Sorry big guy. We were in a hurry to get out of there. You know how it is. Besides, he was a rather rude host." Chuck slapped him on the shoulder. "I could use a shower; let's hit the road."

Sarah caught Casey's attention. "How'd you guys find us?"

"It was Forrest. She was scanning satellite images of the area and saw the strange arrangement of barriers at this place. It seemed as good a location as any to start looking. The huge explosion kind of sealed the deal," Casey explained.

As they neared the vehicles, Sarah steered Chuck to the SUV. "Casey, Cole and I are taking the Vic, everyone else in the other car." She felt the shock-wave as Chuck stiffened beside her. Sarah couldn't meet the hurt in his eyes, choosing instead to look past him as she whispered, "It's important, Chuck. Please do this for me. We'll talk at the hotel."

He nodded, pushing away to limp the remaining few feet to the waiting vehicle. She watched him until he closed the door, blocked from her view by the tinted windows. Sighing heavily, she crawled into the back seat of the Vic. Cole tried to slide in next to her. She stopped him with a glare. "Front seat." Hands up in surrender, he backed off before claiming shotgun.

She let her eyes close and head fall back, gathering herself for what was next. Casey drove in silence and waited for whatever Sarah had to say. Cole occupied himself by looking out the window. He wasn't really sure why she'd brought him along.

"Casey, I think we need to re-evaluate our team structure. It's something I should have seen a long time ago; today just really opened my eyes. We need to start paying more attention to what Chuck has to offer." Sarah met Casey's eyes in the rear view mirror. "I think we could be even more effective if we truly operated as a team and not as asset and handlers."

Gruffly, Casey answered, "I'll admit the Intersect has added a new twist to things. But the twerp is still mostly useless. What does he bring to the table other than the computer in his brain?"

"That illustrates my point. Because of the Intersect, that's all we think of. If you'd been paying attention, you'd see that most of the times when he's come through, there was no Intersect involvement. The first night you met him what happened? He came up with a way to stop a bomb without the intersect. And that's not the only example I can recall. Cole, you worked with him a little. What do you think?" Sarah turned her attention to the other passenger.

Cole paused to order his thoughts before giving his assessment. "I think you're right, Sarah. In the after-mission briefing with my superiors, they asked why Chuck was totally ignored when he said he could hack the chip, especially given that he succeeded. My only answer to them: I was following the lead of the people he worked with. You two brushed him off without a second thought. I've often wondered how differently things would have gone. It might have given us the upper hand from the beginning.

"Then, during our rescue attempt at the embassy, sure he was bumbling and more trouble than help, but he pushed his fear aside and tried anyhow. There's just something about the guy. I'd work with him again. After teaching him to use a gun of course."

"That's not enough for me. I have to trust my partner with my life and Bartowski doesn't give me a warm fuzzy feeling in that regard," Casey argued.

"I trust him," Sarah said quietly. "I wouldn't be sitting here right now if it wasn't for Chuck's quick thinking. Casey, none of it came from the Intersect. He and I, we worked together, acted on each other's ideas, and came through alive. Teamed with you or anyone else, I'm not sure of the outcome. Listen, I'm not asking you to share secret handshakes and become drinking buddies. Read my report, think about what we've done the last two years, and give him a chance Casey. I think it could mean better things for all of us."

"I make no promises," Casey stated.

Meanwhile in the other vehicle, "No way! The guy tried to drown you in an elevator?" Carina was stunned. "That's totally insane. How'd you make it out?"

"We... ummm... used our pants as makeshift air bladders." Chuck blushed.

"Commendable my boy, very creative way to de-pants the ladies." Roan grinned. "Can you think of a way to make use of a woman's blouse?"

That made Chuck blush even more. "I wasn't trying to get her clothes off. It was survival."

Roan sighed, "Still so much to learn."

"It was a mistake to get on the elevator in the first place. I'm surprised Walker fell for it," Forrest spoke up.

"Oh, right, what was she thinking? I'm sure you run into elevators that fill with water every day," Chuck countered.

"Maybe not, but an elevator car is a small space. It's perfectly suited for trapping and controlling your target. That was my point." She stared straight ahead as she drove.

"Give it a rest, robot lady, he's had a hard day. We can't all be as perfect as you." Carina spun to face Chuck again. "Besides, I'm sure you two were still feeling the aftereffects of the knock out darts."

Chuck smiled his thanks to Carina. "Actually, I was in pretty good shape by then. If I had to guess, I'd say we didn't take Laszlo seriously enough. I mean, the guy's a genius, but he's also a fruit loop. Who leads off with a death trap straight out of a Bond film? He surprised us. That almost cost us our lives."

Placing her hand on his arm, Carina consoled him, "Don't beat yourself up about it. Hey, you two made it out and he didn't. That's the most important part, right? And you got to blow up your first building. I've done that three times. Come on, you can tell me. It was fun wasn't it?"

Ducking his head, Chuck laughed. "Yeah, it was a little fun. I just hope the people in there made it out okay."

Roan and Carina shared a look at Chuck's innocence. "I'm sure they did, my boy. All those evil masterminds have a secret escape route." Roan gave him a comradely slap on the shoulder.

"I wonder what they're talking about up there." Chuck indicated Casey's Crown Vic with a thrust of his chin.

Forrest was quick to respond, "Since we got stuck with you, I'd have to say you're the subject of the conversation."

"Ignore her, Chuck." Carina turned him to face her. "Tell me more about what happened."

XXXXXXXXXX

She heard the commotion from her vantage point in the hotel bar. Carefully, she followed their progress in the reflection of a mirrored wall. Sarah and Chuck looked a little beat up, but everyone's spirits seemed to be running high... except for Casey and the new blonde agent; they appeared as dour as ever. Raising her hand to signal for another drink, she put the distraction to good use and slipped her earwig into place. Time to find out what's been going on.

XXXXXXXXXX

They rode the elevator in silence, with Chuck and Sarah trading anxious looks. It felt so much smaller, cramped even, than they remembered. Piling out of the elevator car, they made a beeline for their rooms. In the interim, it had been decided to have everyone move into one location to avoid any more issues. Roan and Cole were sharing a room. Sarah, Chuck and Carina were still bunk mates under the new plan. This left Casey and Forrest to share a room. Alex was adamant in her desire to not be put in a room with either the old Lothario or a younger, British version. Complaining mainly for show, Casey was secretly pleased to not share with Montgomery or Barker either. They both got on his nerves almost as much as Bartowski.

Opening the door, Sarah pointed. "Chuck, in." She stuck her arm out after he passed. "Carina, stop. I need to talk to Chuck about something. Come back later."

Carina smirked. "How much time do you need? An hour?" She gave Chuck an appraising look. "Half hour maybe?"

"Hey, I'll have you know..." Chuck sputtered.

Cutting him off, Sarah faced Carina squarely. "We are going to talk," she said, indicating Chuck with a wave of her hand. "So, you take that dirty little mind of yours and go play with Casey and the rest of the crew. Got it?"

Right before the door closed, Carina teased, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Chuck grumbled, "I'll bet that's an awfully short list."

"You have no idea." Sarah chuckled before turning serious. She walked up to Chuck and locked eyes with him. "I'm sorry."

Obviously, that wasn't the opening he'd expected. Chuck had thought he'd somehow gotten in trouble again. Stumbling on his reply, "What are you sorry about? Seems to me, everything that's been going on is because of me. You, Casey and everyone else are just caught in the crossfire."

"Believe me, I have a lot to be sorry for. I let La Ciudad get the drop on me. I should have noticed the ambush by Laszlo's men. And today, today I was letting you down at every step. Riding in an elevator in the middle of an enemy stronghold, what was I thinking? You should never have opened any of those doors, that's my job. To top it all off, I just blithely hop into a car that our captor practically designed. I have every reason to be sorry for my actions lately. Luckily, we've lived through all my missteps." Sarah crossed the room to look out the window, arms wrapped tightly over her chest.

He closed the distance between them. "Agent Sarah Walker isn't allowed to be human once in a while?"

"It's not that simple. Failure means consequences. That's not all though. I'm sorry I don't take you more seriously."

Chuck wasn't sure how to handle that statement. "What do you mean? Has all this just been you having your fun on a boring assignment? Might as well play around with the asset till I can get back to my real job? I hope you haven't suffered too terribly, Agent....." In his anger, Chuck spun and caught his ankle on the coffee table. Arms windmilling, he fell with a crash.

XXXXXXXXXX

A loud crash erupted from the speakers. Carina turned down the volume a couple notches. "Do you think she hit him?"

Coming out of the bathroom, Casey looked at the agents huddled around his equipment. "Are you people spying on Walker and the moron?"

"Duh, we are spies," Carina answered.

Cole added, "You aren't the least bit curious what Sarah has to say to him?"

"Do you know how long I've had to listen to those two yammer about every little thing? I took my curiosity out back and shot it over a year ago," Casey sneered before taking a seat at the small table.

With a fresh martini in hand, Roan settled into a seat near the balcony. "I think they make a cute couple. If they can ever get over themselves, maybe something will come of it."

"And that's the problem. It's against protocol and look at how much trouble has resulted." Agent Forrest took a chair across from Casey. "I still don't understand why Beckman let her stay on assignment."

"Shush people. I can't hear." Carina cranked the volume up again.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dropping down next to Chuck, Sarah reached to ghost her fingers along his cheek. "No! That's not what I meant at all. After everything, how could you even think that?"

He slid away from her touch and pushed to his feet. "It's not that hard from where I stand. I watch you put on an act every time we go on a mission, become someone else so convincingly it fools even me. As much as I think I know you, can you blame me for not being sure?" Chuck swung around to see Sarah launching herself at him.

They slammed together and she wrapped around him, her lips met his in a ferocious kiss. Surprised by the move, he fell backward and took her with him, bouncing off a wall before landing in a heap on the floor. Their impact with the wall sent a picture tumbling to the floor.

XXXXXXXXXX

Leaning closer to the speaker, "Was that breaking glass?" Cole glanced to Casey. "Should we maybe go break things up so Chuck doesn't get hurt?"

Before Casey could answer, Roan took charge. "No, Mr. Barker. They need to work through this. It's been a long time coming, believe you me."

"If you say so, old man." Cole returned his attention to the audio feed.

XXXXXXXXXX

Rolling them over, Chuck pinned Sarah under him. "Tell me, then. Tell me what you meant by not taking me seriously."

"On missions Chuck, on missions. We've never given you the credit you deserved or treated you as a real member of the team. We used you like another tool in our arsenal and I feel badly about it." Sarah looked up with pleading eyes. "You've got a lot to offer,and you don't need to be a super spy like Bryce was. I can guarantee you've pulled off things he could never match."

Chuck's mouth fell open in shock. Sarah bucked under him and sent him tumbling. She followed and quickly had their positions reversed. Straddling his waist, she gazed down at him. Chuck watched her trail her fingers down his chest. She gripped a double handful of shirt and pulled hard, buttons popping free and bouncing around the room. Chuck grabbed Sarah, drawing her down for another kiss. In an attempt to bring his legs up, he tangled them with the nightstand. It tilted crazily, sending a lamp sliding off to make a loud crunch and pop.

XXXXXXXXXX

Carina turned the volume up a little more. It had gone strangely silent after that last explosion of noise. They weren't talking or breaking any more furniture. Hopefully that was a good sign.

'thump'

"Wait, what was that?" Cole put his ear right up to the speaker.

'thump... thump...'

Scrunching her face as she focused on the noise, Carina turned it up louder still.

'Thump... Thump... Thump... Thump...'

From his chair, Roan swirled his martini. He watched the olive spin in his little man-made vortex. "Do me proud, Charles."

'Thump... Thump... Thump...'

"Oh no... you don't think... are they...," Casey sputtered uncomfortably.

"Oh... My...," Sarah's moan blasted from the speakers, Carina having maxed out the volume. She fumbled at the controls and killed the feed.

Roan laughed, "Why yes Colonel Casey, that was the distinctive sound of hotel bed headboard meeting hotel wall. I'm sure you can identify the other sound. Make of it what you will. If you'll excuse me, the hotel bar happens to have a very fine gin collection." With a flourish, he walked out.

"Hey, Carina, I thought you turned that thing off," Casey whined.

"I did Casey, your precious gear is all shut down nice and proper."

"Oh yeah. Then how come I can still hear Walker?" he accused.

Carina tilted her head and smiled innocently in response.

Turning beet red, Casey reached for the remote. "I wonder what's on the news?"

Cole and Carina were sending glances back and forth to each other. "Well love, looks like we have some down time."

"Yeah, I think my room is going to be off limits for the foreseeable future." Carina smiled sweetly.

"If I recall, you had unkind words to say about MI6 agents and their prowess in bed?" Cole was edging towards the door.

"You're right, I did. I will admit, that opinion was formed from a rather small sampling." Carina sidled close behind him as Cole opened the door.

"Ah, so in the interest of scientific accuracy...." Leaving the sentence unfinished, Cole and Carina slipped from the room.

Alone, Casey and Forrest faced each other across the hotel table. With a subtle raise of her eyebrow, Alex placed her gun cleaning kit on the Formica surface and popped it open. Casey nodded his approval, whipping out his pistol.

XXXXXXXXXX

'_Oh God, I can't listen to this anymore._' She pulled the earwig out and dropped it into her purse. Needing a moment to collect herself, she drained her drink and gestured for another. '_Chuck, can't you see she's using sex to control you. I've seen Fulcrum's files on her__;__ the things she's done. You don't know what Agent Walker is capable of. I owe you Chuck. I'll save you from her, even if it means I have to kill her. I gu__ess I still love you after everything that's happened_.' The lady sighed deeply as her shoulders sagged.

"He doesn't love you."

Startled, she swiveled to see a silver-haired rogue seated next to her. "What?" Warning bells rang in her head, '_Does he __know who I am?_'

"Your sigh. You have feelings for someone, but he has feelings for someone else. Did he love you once?" Roan signaled to the bartender. "Allow me. Sir, I need two ice-cold, dirty martinis. Three olives."

He didn't appear to recognize her, so she relaxed. "I know he did, once upon a time. Whether I can win him back or not doesn't matter. The woman he's with now is all wrong for him. I have to do something about that. I know he'd do the same for me."

Their drinks arrived and they clinked glasses. "Ahh yes, an age old problem. Allow me to introduce myself, Roan Montgomery at your service."

"Hello Roan, pleased to meet you. I'm Jill. Jill Roberts."

XXXXXXXXXX

Sarah swore if this felt any better she'd be purring. Nuzzled into the curve of his neck, she reveled in the sensations of his arms wrapped tightly around her. One of his hands was sliding up and down in idle caresses of her bare skin, leaving goosebumps in it's wake. She drew back and tilted up, whispering softly, "Candy."

"Hmm, what?" He replied muzzily.

"Candy Apples," she said with an evil grin.

Confusion evident, Chuck asked, "You're hungry?"

"No silly, that's my Bond girl name."

"Oh really? Apparently, someone is awfully proud of her assets."


	8. THE TRUTH ABOUT charLIES part I

_Thanks to TimeWalker for his wonderful beta work on this two-parter._

CHUCK VERSUS THE TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE,

NO GOOD, REALLY BAD DAY

Chapter 8

by truthseekr

**The Truth About** Char**Lies - **Part I

The waning afternoon sun kissed the western horizon as the sky turned from blue to purple red and then to orange over the Golden state – not that either of them noticed. Both were content to lie there as the twilight took over. It had been an exhausting day filled with the pitch black of blindfolds, the blues associated with a lack of oxygen, even the burning red of lasers, all to be capped off by a golden moment of truth that had only shortly before taken place between them.

Sarah stirred first to the sound of her iPhone buzzing.

"Hello . . ." she groggily answered, looking down at her complete state of undress in the growing shadows of the room.

_Oh my god, what did we do?_ It was a rhetorical question; she _knew_ all too well what had happened. She replayed it in her mind, paying little attention to the voice on the other end of the line. Instead, she chose to focus on the new light in which she was seeing the man lying next to her.

"Oh yes. Right, _Ellie_." The woman's less than enthused voice snapped Sarah out of her reverie. She turned away from him and toward the setting sun outside, now barely peeking through the room.

"No, I'm sorry Ellie. I didn't know."

_We've got to talk about this._

"I'm sorry. . . He must've turned off his phone."

_But what do I say?_

"Yes. We'll be there in 30 minutes."

With Ellie off the line, Sarah sent a quick text message to the rest of Team Zodiac, as well as the CIA's support wing of clothiers. '_LUAU IN 20'._

There was just enough time to take a shower and put behind the horror of a day that had ended up . . . well, like it did. After sliding her t-shirt on, she leaned over to him and whispered into his ear. "Chuck, wake up." He rolled over on his back. With a contented smile, he peeked open his eyes only to close them again.

"Hello, gorgeous."

She returned his smile, caressing his cheek. Her thumb trailed its way across the rough shadow of his stubble, up and over to the softness where it stopped. She couldn't help but reflect upon the rough day that had ended so sweetly.

She reached up, gently pushing a few errant curls from his face. She could wake up to these curls, this face, everyday for the rest of her . . . wait, _what was she thinking?_

He opened his eyes, now focusing with a more attentive smile. "That was . . ." _incredible, amazing, what I've longed for, _he wanted to say all at once.

"Yeah it was." She kissed his forehead, not wanting him to put any of it into words.

"Wait, I want to talk about this." Chuck looked up, suddenly very serious.

She knew that he would; he always wanted to talk. It was as if she always chose to 'show' while he chose to 'tell'. She had definitely gone first this afternoon; maybe it was his turn now.

Sarah considered her response. She was most definitely not going to use the cliché – 'we don't have time to talk'. Even if true, she wasn't going to crush him with that excuse anymore. Nor did she want to say 'we'll talk later'. He would interpret that response as yet another delay. She just couldn't think of a way that he would interpret it other than a classic Sarah Walker 'not talking about her feelings' response. So she accepted that it was time.

"Me too." Her glowing eyes lingered on him before getting up. It was most definitely not the shoot down that he was expecting. "But we have to talk while we're getting ready because we've got to leave in eighteen minutes."

"Arghh!" His wandering hand reached for her only to find her pillow. He pulled it over to him. It still smelled like her, but it served as a poor substitute. He wanted the real thing back beside him.

"I'm going to take a quick shower, but I won't be long. We can talk then." She turned and smiled as she made her way to the bathroom. After shutting the door and turning on the water, the gravity of what she just willingly agreed to do hit her like a tidal wave. _What was I thinking? I offered to talk about 'this'?_

Stepping into the shower, she let the soothing waters rush over her as she tried to cool her anxious thoughts. She couldn't help but think about the uncharted waters that she had just volunteered to swim in and how completely foreign they seemed to her.

She sudsed up quickly. Could she really come clean? Could she tell him that she didn't want to save the world, _she wanted . . . _The words had been there, taunting her, ever since their dance in the courtyard. She had come so close to saying them at the reception, only to be interrupted by his dad, their tragic and unsuccessful attempt to save Bryce, and then his decision to upload the new Intersect. And then came the mass escape of pretty much every criminal they had ever put away. In the last three days, they had been attacked by Banacheck's thugs, put away Mr. Colt and his henchmen, tangoed La Ciudad to death, he'd airbagged Ned Rhyerson, and they had even destroyed Lazslo's Playhouse of Pain.

Thinking about the most recent obstacle, she caught herself wondering — in what normal conversation would sharks with lasers _ever_ come up? None. Any chance at a normal conversation, a normal life, was definitely out the window . . . _for now_. She couldn't help but want to give him that. He deserved that. And the truth was that she wanted it with him . . . and so much more.

Steering in and around the truth of her feelings was something not unexpected. She had been navigating in those waters for months. She often successfully maneuvered in close proximity to those emotional mine-fields without actually having to admit them. Only today they had finally made contact and it was quite the explosion. Now she knew that they couldn't compact all of that energy back in; and the truth was she didn't want to.

She rinsed off, thinking about all the pressure of the forbidden that had now dissipated, only to be replaced by the naked truth. She knew that in a few moments he would expect her to plunge head first into talking about what all this meant . . . even if she didn't know.

Sarah had a real sense that he would probably talk into oblivion (or at least long enough to fill the time they had while they were getting ready). Now what that meant for the next time they might end up alone, who knew? But she would deal with that moment when the time came.

Outside the bathroom, Chuck hadn't stirred since Sarah had gotten up.

_KNOCK! KNOCK! _

He groaned. _What now? _Chuck slid on his boxers and went to check the door.

"Drycleaning," the bellman announced. Through the peephole, Chuck noticed the man in uniform check to his left and right and then briefly flash his CIA credentials. Leaving the chain on the door, Chuck opened it just enough to take hold of the package. "Have fun at the luau, sir."

Chuck scrunched his brows in confusion. _Tango, toga, and now luau._ _Spy code. _Ugh! Why couldn't they just say, 'it's time to go shoot up some bad guys' and be done with it? No, there was always some sort of pun involved.

"Thanks," he muttered, shutting the door. He sat down at the foot of the bed and took the plastic off the 'drycleaning'.

"What the . . . " he remarked, noticing the gaudy floral shirt on the hanger. But his outfit wasn't what really caught his widened eyes. On the other hanger was a lei, a bikini, and a sarong skirt. _Maybe she wanted to take that vacation after all_. God knows they deserved it.

He spied the setting sun outside. He thought about the sand, the surf, the sarong . . . _so right_. He smirked at his own pun. He could see the wind blowing through her hair as she glowed, followed by her cat-like walk on all fours coming out of the surf to meet him. It was just like in _'From Here To Eternity', _only in Technicolor.

"Are you alright Chuck?" Sarah leaned over him, glistening fresh out of the shower.

"Yes," he smiled through his blush, wrapping her up in his arms to make sure that she was really there. While there was no surf, she still smelled fresh like the ocean and he just wanted to drink her in. He started to nuzzle her.

"As much as I really want to do that _again_," she started, "we _need_ to get dressed."

"Why? Because I think I _need_ to get you . . . " _undressed_. He left off the last word content to 'show' instead of 'tell' for once. He trailed his fingers along the inside of the satin hotel robe she was wearing, causing her to gasp.

She really didn't want to stop where the conversation _and his hands_ were leading but she knew if they didn't, they'd be in even more trouble with the strongest force in their lives—not the Ring, not Fulcrum, not even the U.S government. No, they would have to deal with Eleanor Faye Bartowski Woodcomb. She didn't want to pull the 'E' card while he was doing that new thing to her neck . . . but she knew that she was only moments away from toppling him if she didn't halt his progress.

"Ellie. We've got to be at your sister's . . . in 20 minutes. That gives you 10 minutes to get ready," she said, looking at the clock on the wall.

"She can wait."

"But Morgan can't. Remember, we missed Anna's dinner out because of the toga party. We cannot be late to your best friend's send off. Especially after everything he's been through over the last two days." Sarah reluctantly pulled away from his all-too-comfortable grasp.

She was having a hard time focusing on getting him dressed for a luau. How in the world was she ever going to be able to concentrate on protecting him when they had to go on a mission together? When his life was on the line? When he was looking at her like he was just then? She grabbed the CIA-issue 'drycleaning' off the hanger and headed over to the vanity just outside the bathroom.

He followed her, his mind still on one thing. "So what's with the get up? Is it a costume party? Cause I was thinking about a French Maid or . . . hey, how about the Weinerlicious uniform?"

"It's a luau, Chuck," she redirected, shooing him into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. "Whew…" she sighed letting out a breath.

Sticking his head back out the door, he grinned. "Okay, so France and Germany will have to wait, but do you promise you'll do the hula for me later?" He waggled his incorrigible eyebrows expectantly.

She rolled her eyes and tossed his shirt and trunks at him, both making contact with his head just before he closed the bathroom door behind him.

They might actually enjoy this if she could keep her mind on her mission to protect him and not on her desire to devour him.

***

_Eight minutes and one cold shower later, the spy world's newest couple knocked on the door across the hall. . ._

The door swung open to reveal Agent Barker wearing pink bermuda shorts and a purple tie-dyed t-shirt with a cheesy saying.

"Nice shirt . . . What does it say? '_Kimono wanna Lei you'_?"

"Been there, done that," Carina smirked as she expertly slid some metal skewers into her muumuu.

"And it looks like he's got the t-shirt to prove it," Chuck chuckled.

"Next time, I'm calling MI-6. This montage is bloody awful." The debonair Brit couldn't believe the audacity of the CIA's assortment team.

"Don't be that way, Coley. See you in a few. It was fun-nish." As usual, Carina was as coy as a tiger was tame.

"Ready?" Sarah asked, attempting to hasten their progress. They were late. And late was not a character trait that Eleanor Woodcomb indulged.

Chuck, Sarah, and Carina made their way to the elevators. Chuck punched the button in rapid succession, his earlier playfulness was completely gone – thanks primarily to the cold shower.

Noticing the increase in his anxiety level, Sarah reassured him, "It'll be okay. I'm pretty sure this one won't fill up with water when it hits the bottom."

"Oh, right. I'm sorry, I was just thinking about Morgan. I completely forgot about his going away party. Some friend I am."

"How is Martin?" Carina turned to Sarah and delivered a mischievous wink in an attempt to deflect some of Chuck's growing stress.

"Oh, he's fine."

The elevator ding signaled the arrival of their ride. The doors parted to reveal one passenger – the man who simply wouldn't die.

"Vincent."

"How's this possible? I watched you die." Chuck counted on his hand, "One. . . two. . . uh . . . you know, I don't know how many times now. Man, you're not looking so good."

The undead villain had large patches of thickened skin over the left-side of his skull where hair no longer grew. His pitted face was an uneven mixture of browns and pinks due to the many patchwork skin grafts that covered the entirety of his left cheek and forehead. It was a good thing the rest of his body was covered up, because Chuck felt nauseous just looking at the man's mangled face. In some ways, he thought that the mangy burn victim belonged more in one of his comics — that was until this Two-face pointed his gun at the threesome.

Vincent stepped forward and the elevator doors closed behind him.

"You know, this is one of those times I really wish I had my dad's wrist computer," Chuck said weakly.

Sarah looked up at Chuck. But something else just over his right shoulder caught her eye — the surveillance camera's flashing red light.

"Then I could just take control of the elevator," he continued nervously.

"Good thing you don't have it then. You're coming with me," Vincent said, pressing the elevator button and not taking his good eye or his gun off his prey.

Sarah continued to stare just over Chuck's shoulder. Then she shifted slightly, smiled back to him, and turned her head to Vincent.

"It's going to be a long night for you, Vincent."

"Why do you say that?"

The elevator dinged and the door opened to reveal nothing behind the half-Zombie faced man but a dark cavernous space.

"Because of this . . ." Sarah planted her left foot and gave the man a swift side snap kick to the chest, sending him tumbling down the shaft.

Chuck turned to Sarah, "How'd you know?"

Sarah smirked and nodded at the surveillance camera.

"Thanks Dad," Chuck said, looking up at the camera.

"I hope he landed on his good side," Carina added as she looked down into the pitch black abyss.

They all stared down the shaft for a moment. As usual, Chuck was the first to speak. "After our experience with elevators today, don't you think we oughtta take the . . ."

"Stairs," both women remarked in unison.

***

Ellie, Devon, and Sarah climbed up the porch stairs of 4222 Clinton Way. Meanwhile, Chuck and Carina hung back a bit to wait on the new invitees that were meeting them at the luau.

"I was going to say 'no' to this shirt and these trunks, but considering what it could've been," Chuck whispered to Carina as the late arrivals piled out of the Crown Vic, "I think I've got a shot at winning 'best dressed' at the party."

"Well, there's something to be said about being nice to the analysts and assets in our world. You get too caught up dictating _protocol_ and pretty soon you'll end up wearing a coconut bra and a grass skirt," Carina snickered.

"Or a wife-beater tee and jorts?" he chuckled at the sight of Casey in jean shorts.

"So, Forrest, what've you got under that fabulous grass skirt of yours?" Cole asked as they made their way over to Chuck and Carina.

"A Glock 17, a SIG P229 . . . "

"What? No guns at the luau!" Chuck cried, flabbergasted.

Casey glanced back at Forrest with a knowing look. "I told you."

"You too, Cole. Hand 'em over."

Cole hesitated. "But I always . . ."

"Not tonight," Chuck insisted. The Brit relented, handing over his Walther P90. Chuck then turned to Forrest.

"Fine, take the Glock, and the SIG," she mock huffed, handing them over while delivering a wink back to Casey.

Satisfied that he had collected the deadly weaponry from the newest additions to Team Zodiac, the nerd tossed the guns in the Vic and they met up with the rest of the gang at the front door.

_DING! DONG! _

Morgan opened the door. Lester and Jeff were just behind him.

"Chuck, Sarah, Ellie, Awesome . . . to see you!"

Chuck turned around and introduced the new additions to the luau.

"This is Casey's . . . _date_, Alex Forrest. You may remember her from. . ."

"Oh yes. _Hello_ Officer. We never forget a . . . uh . . ." Lester said trying hard not to keep looking down at the coconuts in front of him.

"Face?" Casey gruffed as the two agents of protocol walked past the perpetrators of perversion.

Ellie pursed her lips. She recognized Alex from somewhere, but she just couldn't put her finger on it. She'd try to figure it out later. Ellie looked to Sarah and asked, "I wonder if Bolonia could use our help in the kitchen?"

"Right." After two years of being Chuck's cover girlfriend and potential future sister-in-law (if Ellie had her way), Sarah knew that was her cue.

"I'll meet up with you later, _sweetie_," she smiled, giving Chuck a peck on the cheek.

"Alright, sweetie," Chuck automatically responded, as if by rote. But then he caught himself. This was no cover date. In fact, there would be no more cover dates . . . _ever._ His relationship with Sarah Walker was _real_. Really great, really indescribable, and really exhausting at times, but real nevertheless. He sighed as he watched her walk away. She turned around and gave him a look - a different look, a look that yearned to get back to what they started before they had to leave for the party.

"Whoa, Chuck," Devon remarked, "You better not drink too much tonight, because that look was . . ."

"Awesome." Chuck sighed.

"Exactly."

"Umm, humm." Agent Barker cleared his throat.

"Oh, . . . right. . . This is Cole."

"Nice shirt," Jeff noted. Apparently, they had both shopped at the same section of Gadzooks before it went out of business.

"Thanks." Cole gave a brief nod. There was no need to be rude to the uncouth American. After all, they were wearing the same t-shirt.

"And you remember Carina? She's visiting Sarah for a few days," Chuck said, rounding out the introductions.

"Hell-o _Carina._ It's been a long time." Morgan kissed the back of her hand.

"Hi Morten," she responded, not making eye contact but instead content to surveil the scene. She followed Cole to the dining room. Each took their turn nonchalantly watching Chuck as they stood by the elaborate pineapple fruit centerpiece on the table.

Lester mumbled to Jeff, "Is it me or has the hotness factor of this party just increased by a factor of ten? No, a hundred?"

Jeff, already salivating, could only think of four words, "Dibs on the redhead."

"Which one?" Lester looked slightly perplexed.

"Does it matter?"

"Good point."

"We're gonna need a refill and some advice from the Master." Jeff turned his glass up, finishing the liquid refreshment in one gulp. Lester followed the elder pervert to the bar where they met up with their new mentor and Assistant Manager, Roan Montgomery.

Their departure left Chuck and Devon standing alone with the man of the evening. Chuck noticed that his short friend continued to stare at Carina over by the luscious fruits.

"So, Morgan, where's _Anna_?"

"Who?"

"You know, your girlfriend?"

"Oh, right. She's in the kitchen, helping my mother."

"Wait, Anna's cooking?" Devon asked suddenly, concerned for his gastrointestinal health.

"No. No. Are you kidding? She might put tartar sauce in the fruit salad." They paused in remembrance of the infamous Anna Wu green-bean casserole of '07. "No, Doc, your colon is safe tonight. She's taking care of the punch and the drinks."

***

After giving a warm hug to Sarah and a lukewarm hello to Ellie, Anna left the kitchen to grab more ginger ale from the garage. She didn't notice that the seal on the containers had been broken. She finished pouring the liquid into the punch bowl and carried it to the bar. Remembering that she forgot the cups, Anna started back toward the kitchen. She turned back before she left the nerds at the bar and said, "Don't get any ideas you two!"

But the ideas were already flowing as freely as the liquor behind them. Jeff and Lester knew that their window of opportunity with the ladies was suddenly widening. They proceeded to ransack the bar in an effort to level the playing field.

Roan sat there slightly amused. Those two had no chance with any of the women here - even Morgan's libidinous mother, regardless of how much liquid lubrication was involved. Still, as with all his students, he couldn't help but give some assistance in the art of seduction. "Would you spread beluga caviar on a Ritz cracker?"

Jeff and Lester looked at each other, puzzled.

"Would you put a Rembrandt in a poster frame?"

"Huh?" Jeff looked at Lester.

"The teeth whitener, Jeffrey," Lester mistakenly explained.

The career agent cocked a brow. He had his work cut out for him. A more direct approach was necessary. "Gentleman, put away the plastic bottles. Women of this caliber have more refined . . . _tolerances._ Might I suggest the Russian Standard or the Stolichnaya, and half of the Everclear on the wall behind you?" the drinking legend offered.

His willing students grabbed the Russian Vodka and 151 and poured them per his instructions. Once stirred, they spooned a bit of the mixture for Roan's approval.

"Hmmm . . . a bit weak for my tastes, but I have a hunch that this punch just might do the trick." Generally not one to imbibe anything other than a very dirty martini (three olives), there was something about this punch that made him consider simpler times - times without lies; times when he considered the truth to be absolute.

"So, you think I have a chance with one of the reds over there?" Jeff asked eagerly.

"Not a chance." Roan answered quickly. As soon as he did, he coughed, trying to mask the truth of what he had just said.

"What about me, Roan?" Lester inquired. He had to fare better based on his glowing complexion and shiny hair alone.

"You might have a chance. . . If you were locked up in prison and one of your cellmates took a liking to you." Roan gasped, not knowing what had come over him.

"Oh dear god," all three men said in unison.

Anna returned with the cups. Ellie and Sarah followed. As Anna poured the sweet goodness, Ellie and Sarah passed out the filled cups.

Bolonia signaled for Big Mike to stop the music. She cleared her throat and then announced, "Can everyone gather around?"

Big Mike stepped over to her side and took a premature swig from his cup.

"I'm so glad you could celebrate with us before my son flies to Hawaii."

The crowd of Buy Morons, Woodcombs, and agents all smiled at the party host.

"Morgan's my only hijo. . . _y yo lo perdere'_." She started to choke up.

"There, there, Bolonia. We're all going to miss Morgan." Big Mike responded gently.

Those in attendance couldn't help but be taken by the picture of a mother fearing the loss of her nearly _30-year-old son_ to adulthood or the fact that the big man next to her cared enough to learn Spanish for this same lady.

"But he's a man, and a man has to find his own way in this world," Big Mike finished putting his arm around his main squeeze.

"Si, Michael, you're right." Her watering eyes were filled with emotion, "_El sera . . . el mejor jefe de cocina . . . en Hawaii_."

"That's right! So here's to the next best Benihana chef in Hawaii!" Big Mike raised his glass to Morgan.

"Here! Here!"

"Oh mother!" The manboy of honor walked over to his mom and gave her a heartfelt hug.

Big Mike then put his arm around Morgan, embracing him. Even after only a sip of the liquid courage in the cup, the big man felt decidedly truthful. "Morgan, I'm gonna miss you son. I can't tell you how much your mother . . . actually I can tell you . . . your mother means the world to me; I love her."

"What?" both mother and son turned in unison, as if prompted by the sound of a record being scratched.

Big Mike didn't know what had come over him. He meant what he said, but he hadn't planned on saying those words . . . especially not in front of _her son_. He began to sweat like the pig over at the bonfire; he certainly felt like he was roasting. Maybe that was his way out. He cleared his throat, "Anyone hungry? I know I could eat!" Without waiting for an answer, he made his way over to the pig roast.

Nearby, a stocky ex-gymnast hobbled from behind the garage to the bushes by the trashcans to get a better view as his signature concoction began to take effect.

***

Chuck took a large gulp of punch and re-filled his glass as he sat with his friend at the bar. "Hey Morgan! Sorry about the other night."

"That's okay Chuck. It's like I always told you, that's what friends do. They lie for one another. They just don't lie to one another, right?"

"Right. Wrong. What?" Chuck flubbed. He had felt this strange feeling before. It was as if he _had_ to be truthful.

"Huh? So has Ellie forgiven me?" asked the furry little man.

"For what? Stealing her panties when you were in 8th grade? Drawing a heart around your picture in her yearbook? Rigging the votes to make her Prom Queen our senior year?

"Well, she was a Junior."

"_Yeah_, a Junior at UCLA, buddy!"

"So you think she's forgiven me for all those times?" Morgan asked in earnest.

"I don't know. Why don't you ask her? She's over with Sarah by the fruit." Chuck couldn't believe what he was saying. Maybe he'd just had too much punch. From the looks of Jeff and Lester, it appeared that those two had definitely made a few choice additions to it. He put down his cup and decided to stop Morgan, following him into the dining room.

"So what were you two doing this afternoon that had my brother so distracted?" Ellie grinned at Sarah.

"Oh, we were looking at apartments," Sarah lied. She was definitely not going to tell Ellie the truth.

Ellie started to squeal. Her pep talk to Chuck must've worked. Finally, her brother had taken the next step; only it wasn't the step that Ellie was thinking.

"No we weren't. We had a fight and then we made up and boy, did we make up." Chuck interjected. _Where did that come from?_

"CHUCK!" Sarah snapped, turning the same color as the solo cup she was holding.

"Awesome, bro." Devon responded enthusiastically with a high-five to a half-hearted Chuck. "I had a little afternoon delight myself."

"You did . . . so . . . not have . . . okay you did . . . I mean, we did." The color on Ellie's contorted face now matched Sarah's as well as the cups that both women were holding.

"ELLIE!" Chuck exclaimed.

"I know, I know. You don't want to know. But I promise it's nowhere near as bad as _seeing_ Devon's parents bounce around in the jacuzzi."

"Indeed." Devon remarked, taking another sip from his cup.

"Is she drunk?" Chuck asked through his teeth. _Déjà vu_.

It must've been coincidence. After all, Sarah had easily lied about them 'looking for apartments'. The strange goings-on couldn't be due to a truth serum. Ellie probably just drank too much punch. Still, he needed to be sure and no one had a better command over intoxicating elixirs than Roan Montgomery. The man's liver had likely soaked up enough impurities to bleach out the entire Great Barrier Reef through the years. And today was no exception. Perhaps he could shed some light on all the sudden truthfulness from the partygoers.

When Chuck eased back up to the bar, he noticed that Roan was telling the undynamic duo about his brief marriage years ago to a woman named 'Diane'.

"We were married in Vegas at the Starlight lounge. Wayne Newton played for us. _Danke shoen!_" The silver fox held up his glass to the east in a toast to Mr. Vegas himself.

"Who's Donkey Shane?" Lester asked.

"He meant Donkey Kong, but that's nothing compared to Missile Command," Jeff corrected.

"Missile Command. Yes, she was in the Air Force; based at Nellis."

"She sounds like a real taskmaster."

"Oh yes, Jeffrey, Diane was quite the disciplinarian."

Chuck's eyes just about popped out of his head. Roan Montgomery had just admitted to being married to none other than General _Diane_ Beckman. Could this night get any weirder? Surely, the man was drunk, both then and now.

Chuck knew he had to stop Roan before the legend admitted something more recent, such as the fact that approximately half of the luau's attendees were covert operatives. "Roan, can I speak to you for a moment?"

Roan swaggered over, "Thank you, Charles. I don't know what came over me. I haven't admitted that 'top secret' rendezvous since it was annulled thirty years ago. But Lester asked if I had ever been married and I couldn't help but tell the truth."

Chuck looked around. Given all the revelry and music, it was extremely hard to focus on any of the conversations. Suddenly, he felt a familiar tingling in his neck, followed by a bit of nausea. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. Before his mind's eye he saw bright light surrounded by a prism of color and numerous characters—some Chinese, a few Greek, several Cyrillic, and perhaps even a couple Cardonic. And then, nothing except a temporary new ability.

"Are you okay, Charles?" Chuck heard Roan as if from a distance, even though he was standing next to him. Chuck put a finger to his lips.

With narrowed eyes, Chuck focused on the other side of the room where Bolonia was talking to her son. "Michael's alright and all; I'm just not that into him."

Chuck turned his head ninety degrees and noticed Lester talking to Big Mike. "I'm sorry, sir, but last year I stole your fish," Lester blurted out.

Chuck turned again, looking over Roan's shoulder through the open window to see Casey muttering to himself outside. "I miss Mother."

Chuck turned one more time and focused on Devon's conversation with Sarah. "I exercise so much because I was a chunky kid in junior high. Whoa. Brain stamp. Why'd I admit that? It's the truth, but so not awesome."

Chuck then turned back to Roan. "I just heard Bolonia admit to not loving Big Mike, Lester admit to stealing, Casey admit to missing his mother, and Awesome admit to being a fat kid growing up. In what universe would that _ever_ happen?"

"In a truthful one, Charles."

"Exactly." He was on the verge of putting it all together.

"But how could you hear all of those conversations?"

"I flashed and then I could . . . I dunno . . . _focus _on things better."

"Well here's to the Twelve Dollar Man! Steve Austin's about to be out of a job." Roan saluted the bionic nerd with his glass.

Chuck gave a curt smile back while trying to think through the haze of truth that was clouding his judgment. "Roan, you've been sitting at the bar all night. Did anyone put anything in the punch?"

"Yes, I had Jeff and Lester help it out a bit, but only with a bottle of Stoli and half a bottle of Everclear. Both bottles were sealed prior to their putting them in the punch."

As the evidence mounted, there was one thing that didn't add up. Chuck knew just the person he needed to talk to. He walked back into the house but was stopped in his pursuit momentarily by his soon-to-be leaving best friend.

"Chuck, I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean, Morgan?" Chuck continued to look around, paying attention to his friend _somewhat. _He didn't see who he was looking for, but he did notice that a certain someone special to the little man had just crept up behind them.

"I love Anna."

"Yeah." Chuck smiled, noticing the excited grin of the woman in the foreground.

"I love Ellie."

"Morgan!" Chuck exclaimed a little too late. Anna Wu had just heard the three words she longed for, but had also heard the three words she feared most. She ran off.

"I love Carina too. But Chuck, I love you the most."

"Well, that is _something_." Chuck smiled, weakly realizing the predicament that his friend had just gotten himself into, if he only knew. "I bet there's not anyone that you don't love?"

"John Casey." Morgan said with a pithy nod.

"Look buddy, Anna just heard you. Now I _know_ you love her, and I _know_ that you were telling the truth. But you're going to have to fix this. If you don't, she won't go to Hawaii with you and you will lose out on the best person and the best thing that's ever happened to you."

Morgan looked back up and his friend, "I always knew the truth about us would one day bite me."

"Morgan, go _NOW_!" The little guy tore off toward the garage in search of his beloved Taiwanese girl.

Chuck turned around just before he headed toward the kitchen. As he did, he noticed the bushes on the far side of the house rustling. He tried to focus once again as he had before just after he flashed, but the ability had already faded. _Twelve Dollar Man indeed_. What good was bionic hearing if you only heard stuff you didn't want to hear—_like Casey missing his mother? _Well, the disturbance was probably nothing.

He needed to find Sarah. He couldn't be absolutely sure what was going on, but he had a good idea. Chuck spoke into his watch as he walked into the kitchen. "I think I know what's wrong with everyone. Well, almost everyone. So speak up if you did NOT drink the punch."

Silence.

And then Chuck found who he was looking for – the anomaly. "Sarah, did you drink the punch?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Because I think it's been laced with Pentathol."

"Are you sure?"

She always knew that one day they would come back to that – back to the day she lied to him while under the spell of truth serum. She just hoped it wasn't going to be today of all days, especially since they hadn't had the talk that he really wanted to have. _Keep your head in the game Walker. This isn't about your relationship; this is about the mission._

"Yeah, I think so. I would've put it all together before now, but I overheard you covering with Ellie and it threw me off. As best I can tell, you're the only one who has been able to _lie . . ." _he paused and then with a head tilt he finished, ". . . since we all drank the punch after Bolonia's toast." As he finished, he put it all together. Not just the truth serum, but her apparent resistance to it.

Even if he wasn't saying it directly, she could tell that he knew. _Forget the mission._ Sarah looked at him sincerely, "We need to talk . . ."

"Yeah, we do. But not now. We need to find the antidote."

_He was right. What is wrong with me? I've been trained to resist this stuff and he's the one that's keeping us straight? _

She nodded. "Have you seen anything suspicious?"

"Other than the fact that everyone is telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God? . . . Wait, actually, yeah. . . I saw the bushes shaking by the trashcans a few minutes ago."

"Casey . . . Cole . . . can you check the bushes by the west side of the house?" Sarah said into her lei.

"Roger that."

***

Casey and Cole moved over to the trashcans. Suddenly, the man who had been causing a pain in everyone's rear — Reardon Paine — rose from the bushes. He pommeled over the back fence and hobbled as fast as he could around the exterior perimeter of the property. Along the way, he tossed trash cans, boxes, old tires, and anything else that would serve as a barrier to slow down the pursuing agents. With as much speed as he could muster, the ex-gymnast grabbed hold of the swing set in the adjacent yard. He followed through with a couple giant swings, letting go of the bar and dismounting with a double twisting layout over the Grimes' backyard fence. He then launched into a series of tumbles and cartwheels onto the porch, grabbing an unlit tiki torch in the process.

Casey said into his watch, "Yep, it's Paine, and it looks as though he's tumbling your way."

Before Sarah could answer, she saw a shadow dart around the corner. She picked up one of Morgan's new knives sitting on the counter and yelled, "DUCK, CHUCK!!"

The knife sailed out of her hand, straight into the air, ripped through the screen door, and hit the porch support outside. She just missed him. Paine took off across the yard and toward the vacant house for sale across the street.

"Casey, he's heading across the street."

Sarah started to give chase but then she stopped suddenly, remembering her ultimate duty to protect that which mattered most to the government as well as herself. Besides Casey, who could she really trust to protect Chuck? Especially when there might be a mole in their midst. While she was still engaged in that last thought, Carina ran into the kitchen.

Chuck looked at Sarah, "You have to get the antidote."

"No, I can't leave you. Remember about the . . . _mole_?" Sarah said the last word barely audible into his ear and under her breath.

The DEA Agent's ears perked up.

"I'll be fine. Besides, if we don't get the antidote, it won't matter because we'll all be dead."

"Get the antidote, Sarah. We've got this covered. I'll make sure he's safe," Carina responded while concentrating on her breathing.

Sarah looked back at Carina. She seemed determined to keep her word. She also appeared to be struggling mightily under the effects of the truth serum. It was her apparent sincerity that ultimately won Agent Walker over.

"Okay. But Chuck . . . stay right here," Sarah said as she took off after Paine.

Chuck sighed and then turned back to Carina. Suddenly, he sensed a golden opportunity to knock at least one operative off his list. He looked at her directly and asked, "Carina, are you the mole?"

"What? No," Carina winced.

"Umm . . . but you know something?" Chuck insisted.

"What would I know about the CIA? I'm a DEA agent." She bit her bottom lip as the sweat began to pool on her brow.

"Who said anything about the CIA? You know something, don't you?"

"Yeah . . . I do. God, I _hate_ this truth serum."

Chuck pressed, "So what do you know?"

Carina panted. "I . . . I didn't want to tell you, but . . . I overheard Forrest talking to Director Bristow after the Buy More stand-off."

"You mean Jack Bristow? As in the new director of the CIA?"

"Yes."

"Why would a NSA agent be talking to the CIA?"

"I don't know. Especially considering that we're on an off-the-grid op."

"Could she be . . . _the mole_?" Chuck asked.

"I don't know. But we have to tell sis…" Carina blurted out without thinking.

Chuck scrunched his eyebrows. "Wait, why would we tell my sister? Ellie doesn't know anything about this."

"Not your sister…"

"Carina?"

Carina took in a couple breaths. Having to tell the truth was really doing a number on her psyche. She had to change the subject quickly because she just didn't trust herself to lie as would be customary at this juncture.

"Chuck, you never know who you can trust in this line of work. It's like I told you, a field agent doesn't want you to know anything real about them – it's . . . _this is_ . . . too hard."

"I know this is hard. Look, that's enough for now." Still, the novice interrogator couldn't help but think how effective Pentathol could be on their entire team, except for the one he was most desperate to know the truth about.

"The truth about you Charlie, is that you are just too trusting." Carina added.

"Really?"

"Yesssss," she slurred. "You know, I've always thought you were kinda cute but you were into . . . " But before she could finish her statement, the chimes of destiny rang.

_DING! DONG!_

With one ring of the door bell, the operative was granted the most welcome reprieve of her career. "I'll get it, you stay here."

***

Morgan walked up to the porch, completely dejected. He had looked everywhere but his Anna-banana was nowhere to be found. As he climbed up the back stairs, he noticed one of his new Hibachi knives was lodged in the porch post. He pulled it out and in typical manboy fashion did a few Bruce Lee _Enter the Dragon _moves at the porch post outside until he saw his friend sitting alone in the kitchen.

"That must be something they teach in Culinary School, huh?" Morgan pointed the knife back at the post.

"Yeah," Chuck breathed deeply.

"Oh yeah, which one?"

As much as he tried, Chuck couldn't contain himself. "The CIA."

"Culinary Institutes of America. Ahh, I've seen their brochures."

It took all the strength he could muster, but Chuck just pursed his lips together and held his breath.

_DING DONG! _

The door bell rang again.

"Chuck, did you call for a delivery of Sizzling Shrimp?" Forrest yelled from the front of the house.

"You shouldn't have." Morgan smiled gleefully with lifted spirits as he ran out and toward the tasty delight.

Alone again in the kitchen, Chuck burst out, "No, the Central Intelligence Agency." He turned on the sink and splashed water on his face. He grabbed a dish rag and toweled off.

He spoke into his watch, "You guys better find that antidote quick or I might end up admitting something really damning. I dunno . . . like the location of the Ark of the Covenant, the formula for New Coke, or perhaps the number of times Forrest has failed to qualify with her service weapon."

"You wouldn't," he heard over his earwig.

"I may not have a choice." Chuck sunk down to the floor. He pulled out his iPhone and scrolled down his contacts until he reached the one person who could help him now. _J.R._

"Hey, I need a favor. . . Can you meet me in the garage of 4222 Clinton Way? . . . Great. . . Please hurry. . . Oh, and bring a mass spectrometer."

Chuck needed to get the remaining punch. If he couldn't get the antidote, maybe he could make one.

_-- TO BE CONTINUED -- _


	9. The Truth About Charlies part II

CHUCK VERSUS THE TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE,

NO GOOD, REALLY BAD DAY

Chapter 9

by truthseekr

**The Truth About** **Charlie**s - Part II

Outside casa de Grimes, two vehicles arrived late to the party. The first was a white van with the logo 'Typhoon Dragon'. Beside it, a sleek, black Aston Martin Vantage pulled up and parked.

"You know what to do," the normally suave Asian said nervously to the five men in the van. Four of these men were Triad. The remaining man he knew nothing about . . . except that his uncle had insisted that he come along.

He continued, "Uncle Ben wants Bartowski taken alive. I don't care what you do to anyone else, but Anna Wu is not to be hurt. She will be coming with us. Her boyfriend is a real loser. He has a thing for Sizzling Shrimp, so we'll pose as delivery men."

Jason and three of the Typhoon Dragonauts walked up to the door and rang the door bell. The other two men snaked around the parameter of the house.

_DING DONG!_

No one came.

_DING DONG!_

Two women opened the door – one dressed in a muumuu, the other in coconuts and a grass skirt.

"I have a delivery for Chuck Bartowski," Jason said timidly. Thuggery wasn't really his game.

"Chuck, did you call for a delivery of Sizzling Shrimp?" The woman in the grass skirt yelled behind her. Hearing no answer, she remarked, "Yeah, I didn't think so."

The 'loser' boyfriend then appeared but his face quickly dropped when he saw Jason Wang with three menacing men behind him. One gave chase after Morgan as he ran back to the bar.

Ms. Coconuts spoke purposely into her shell necklace, "Roan, delivery coming your way."

Jason felt his ear and stared off. He handed the 'delivery' to his man standing outside the door as the other man stepped inside. He remarked, "我们发现了她" and took off down the porch stairs and around the side of the house.

Ms. Coconuts set out to follow Jason, only to be stopped by the extended hand of man that remained on the porch. She looked back at him with narrowed eyes and asked, "_WHO_ did you find?

***

Morgan had to find Anna. He jetted straight back to the bar. "Have you guys seen Anna? I've looked for her everywhere."

"She's probably out back, talking about how much of a loser you are," Jeff said.

"She said something about never wanting to speak to _Mr. Love_ again," Lester added with emphasis.

"That's not helping. Her stalker ex is here and he's brought some muscle," Morgan said, trying to catch his breath.

"Gentlemen, even though she won't say it, a woman wants to be rescued," Roan piped in, "And . . ."

Roan stuck his foot out from the bar causing Morgan's husky Asian pursuer to face plant right in front of them.

". . . a villain wants to be captured."

"Wow! You know about women _AND_ you read comic books." Morgan stood amazed and relieved.

"You have to be the best Ass Man ever!"

"Hmmm… I'm not so sure about the last part Jeffrey, but thank you."

Arriving mid-conversation, Chuck interjected, "What are you guys talking about?"

"Anna's old flame is here," Jeff responded.

"Flame? I wouldn't call Jason a flame. Rebound, maybe," Morgan corrected.

"Jason Wang is here?" Chuck asked.

"And he brought several of his large friends," Lester said.

"He's such a stalker," Jeff added, shaking his head in disgust.

Chuck half-smirked at the irony. But before he could give it much thought, the thug at his feet began to stir. Chuck rifled through his pockets and pulled out his mint-flavored knock-out spray. In one swoop, he bent down and sprayed the hooligan's mouth. The guy went limp.

"What? Bad breath is the most unwelcome visitor of all." The nerds looked back at Chuck and nodded in agreement. _Chuck had a point._

Chuck then turned to Jeff, "I think we're gonna need the _good stuff_. You know . . . the stuff you swiped from Casey's locker?"

"Rigggghhhhttttt." Jeff drew out. _This party was about to get good._

"Oh and Jeffrey, could you take this man back to his van? I'd sure hate for him to miss his ride home," Roan added.

"Sure thing, boss." With his marching orders, Jeff hoisted the passed out thug to his shoulder and headed out.

Chuck felt a vibration in his pocket. He pulled out his iPhone and looked at the message. "I'll be back." He grabbed the punch bowl and headed toward the garage.

Roan noticed a rustling in the bushes by the trash cans. He lit a cigarette and tucked the 151 under his arm. "Well, Mr. Grimes, are we going to rescue your damsel in distress?"

Morgan nodded, grabbing a brown paper sack from behind the bar.

***

"Thanks for meeting me," Chuck said as he walked into the garage with the punch bowl.

"So why am I here? You want help with a punch recipe?" Jill's snarky reply did nothing to cover how miffed she still was from hearing the sounds that had come from his hotel room earlier that afternoon.

Chuck looked back with some concern. "Yes . . . well kind of. I have a hunch that everyone has been drugged with Pentathol in the punch."

"It must've been Sarah. You can't trust . . ."

"No, Jill. Don't." He cut her off with piercing eyes.

Jill realized that she wasn't going to get anywhere by accusing her now that Sarah Walker was in his pants. She knew all too well how easy it was to manipulate him in that way. The truth about Chuck was that he was just too trusting. No, Jill knew that she would have to catch Sarah in a lie. But not now. Now, Chuck needed her help.

"Was it the mole?" she asked.

"I don't think so."

"Then who?"

"I think it was just this fanatical ex-Olympic gymnast who sells nuclear codes to foreign countries. I know that sounds crazy but I don't have any choice but to tell the truth. So, you have to believe me," Chuck finished with a weak smile.

***

The crazy ex-gymnast's knee was killing him. Darting with all the speed he could, he ran straight toward the vacant house across the street. He pulled out his gun and shot a few rounds at the front window. In mid-stride, he planted the tiki torch and pole vaulted his way toward the house. Upon contact, his feet broke through the glass and he fell through the opening and inside the house.

Casey and Cole were only a few steps behind. Cole took off his t-shirt.

"Barker, I'm really not that kind of guy."

"Really? Have you looked at what you're wearing?" Cole smirked at Casey's muscle shirt and short jean shorts. "Hoist me up and I'll let you in."

Casey rolled his eyes with a manly grunt but then he relented, giving the smaller man a lift. Cole placed his shirt over the broken glass and slid over the sill and into the house. He shook off his shirt, put it back on, and then made his way over to the door. Sarah, in full stride, made it just in time to come through the door after Casey.

As soon as the three made it to the empty living room, shots rang out from the kitchen . . . all at knee level. Both Casey and Sarah drew their guns.

"Why does he keep shooting so low?" Cole asked.

"Long story," Sarah responded.

"The last time we met him, Walker shot him in the knee," Casey answered.

"Ahh, always go for the knee," Cole affirmed, gaining cover behind a built-in bookcase. Sarah followed him across the room, letting off a few shots for cover.

"Hello, darling, so nice of you to view the house," Cole said.

She smirked.

"These lovely built-ins were added just this year."

"Too bad they're gonna need refinishing when this is over," she responded ducking from the fire coming from the kitchen.

"Who are you people?" Reardon shouted.

"The NSA, CIA, and me –MI-6, who is a little harder to explain," Cole blurted out.

Casey snickered.

"Why did I just say that?" Cole asked, perplexed.

"It's the Pentathol; it makes you tell the truth. I guess you've never been exposed to it," Sarah explained.

"No, usually the villain just tries to torture the truth out of me."

She nodded.

Barker smacked his lips; he had an idea, "So Agent Walker, what do you think of me?"

"It's hardly the time."

"No really, what do you think of me?" Cole insisted.

"Okay, if you insist . . . I think you're an exceptional agent, an amazing shot, and I owe you for saving my life _twice_."

Cole Barker never gave up that easy, "Hmm, well how do you _feel_ about me?"

Sarah ducked as a couple of shots splintered the wood of the bookcases they were using for cover.

"Do we really have to do this now?"

"Of course, darling," the Brit said in anticipation.

"I think you are charming, a great kisser, and your trademark grandiose moves are something that most wouldn't have any power to resist, but I'm _NOT_ interested."

Barker's face dropped.

"Hey Agent Libido, Walker's been trained to resist Pentathol, so fat chance at getting her to admit her 'feelings,'" Casey yelled from behind the cover of the fireplace.

"So you weren't telling . . ."

"No, no, I was. Thanks a lot Casey! He does NOT need any encouragement," Sarah huffed.

Casey snickered. "Agents Re-Max and Century 21, when did you say this house was built again?"

"Judging by the exterior, I'd say in the last five years." Sarah answered.

"Good."

Sarah knew exactly what Casey was thinking. She could see Paine from the reflection in the hood above the range. However, she was unable to take the shot due to the dishwasher being in her line of sight. Judging where Casey squatted, he definitely had the better position to take the shot.

"What do you think of the stainless steel hood above the range, dear?" Sarah asked.

"It's quite lovely. It's so shiny you can see your reflection in it," Cole added.

"And how about the fine veneer kitchen cabinets?"

"Exquisite craftsmanship, especially on the island mullion just off center to the left."

It was all the direction Casey needed. He pointed the laser sight of his SIG P229 and fired.

"_YEOWWWW!!!_" A yelp of pain erupted from the kitchen, followed by a weak mutter, "Not the other knee."

"Very unsportsmanlike," Cole remarked.

"I like it," Sarah smiled back at Casey.

Casey snarled, "I know Barker can't help it, but do you have to steal my lines too, Walker?"

"Well, at least you got to shoot him this time," Sarah half-smirked as they walked into the kitchen.

"Here's what I don't understand. Chuck said 'no guns at the luau,'" Barker remarked.

"Hummph," Casey grunted at the opportunity, "For god's sake man, carry a gun."

"Maybe two," Sarah grinned back at the turnabout of line stealing.

Casey looked down at the ex-gymnast writhing in pain. "Give us the antidote or we'll drug it out of you. Either way, we're going to find out what you're doing here."

***

"What am I doing here?" Jason muttered as he made his way over to the west side of the house. _I'm no thug._

But sure enough, there she was—Anna Wu in a grass skirt and bikini. She was bound and tied with a bag over her head. He motioned for his man who had found her like that to take her to the van; Jason was getting her out of there.

"What kind of loser would do this to his girlfriend?" Jason asked.

***

"What kind of loser would do this to his ex-girlfriend?" Lester whispered to Morgan and Roan as they peeked just over the bushes.

"We can't let them hurt her," Morgan whimpered.

"We need a plan. One that won't get her or us killed," Roan said, "What do you have in the bag?"

***

"So what do you really have in the bag?" Forrest asked the unwelcome 'delivery' man on the porch.

The man smirked with a half-curled lip.

"Why don't you come over and show me?" Forrest sauntered over to the round porch baluster and moved her hand around the support. She then leaned on it seductively backing her way up and down it.

With a sinister grin, he moved in closer, pulling a Norinco Type 54 pistol from the bag.

"Oh, you don't need _that_. I've already got the coconuts and the grass skirt. Why don't you let me give you a private dance?"

He put his gun in his belt and then moved within a few feet behind her.

_Men are so easily distracted._

In one move, Forrest tightened her grip on the pole and swung out and around. On the return trip, her feet made contact with his back, sending him sailing off the porch. He landed head first with a _CRACK!! _Within seconds, a trail of blood trickled from his head down to the sidewalk and into the grass.

"That was easy enough."

Forrest spoke into her necklace as she went to dispose the body. "Your turn."

From inside the house, Carina smiled as if on cue at the thug who stood silently in front of her.

"Why is it they call it Sizzling _Shrimp_?" Carina seductively looked down at the man's pants. Only, unlike the guy formerly on the porch, this man expressed no interest in any of the charms that this redhead had on display.

Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out his own Norinco. "But I thought you were the delivery guy? I promise we'll give you a big tip," she offered, remembering the skewers hidden in her muumuu.

"Where's Chuck Bartowski?" the menacing man insisted.

"Last I checked he was in the kitchen," she blurted out. "DAMMIT! I'm getting really SICK and TIRED of having _TO TELL THE TRUTH!!_"

Luckily, her outburst distracted him just long enough. She pulled out a skewer and launched it in the air. It hit its mark, making him drop the gun as the skewer pierced into and through his hand, pinning him against the wall. She closed the distance, kicking his gun under the couch.

He winced in pain as he pulled the skewer out from the wall, freeing his mangled hand just in time to dodge her next long dagger. He ran over to the table while she pulled the skewer out of the wall.

"It's been awhile since I've had a knife fight."

"That's not a knife," he corrected.

"No. This is a knife!" Carina picked up one of Morgan's Hibachi knives sitting on the table. With a flick of the wrist, she sent it flying his way. He grabbed a melon from the fruit display just in time to deflect the blade as it sliced the fruit in two.

"So you're into melons?" Carina walked slowly around the table. He shook his head and tossed the fruit aside.

"No? Well how about a bit of pineapple?" Carina delivered a roundhouse kick high, sending the centerpiece of the fruit display directly toward his head. He ducked, slid under the table, and then dove quickly behind the couch.

As if in slow motion . . . the . . . pineapple . . . glided . . . through . . . the air . . . toward . . . the front door . . . which had . . . swung open. . . ultimately . . . making contact . . . with . . . the pineapple . . . head . . . himself.

_THWHACK!!!_

Jeff's head spun round. His body went limp. His fingers released the 'good stuff'. The bottle fell. He wilted and followed the bottle to the floor.

"Sorry, Jedd." Carina flinched. She noted the bottle's progress as it rolled to a stop under the table. Meanwhile, she kept her eyes on her new playmate who was desperately trying to reach for his gun under the couch.

"So maybe fruit isn't your thing." Noticing that the guy's unblemished hand was protruding out from the other side of the couch, she pulled out her final skewer and jabbed it down hard, pinning him to the wood below. He cried out in pain.

Carina swiftly ripped a swatch of cloth from her muumuu, grabbed the bottle of chloroform, and saturated the cloth. She reached over the couch and muffled his cry by stuffing the rag down his throat.

"That's good stuff," Carina said to herself as the man fell just as limp as the 'pineappled' nerd already on the floor.

Carina spoke into her necklace, "I'm clear. But I need a place to stash this guy." She listened and then began to drag the punk out the door. "Got it. I'll meet you at the van."

A few moments and a few bodies later, both redheads returned to the living room just as the dazed and confused nerd began to stir.

Lifting his head at the ladies, the pervert grinned. "Roan was right."

"About what?" Forrest asked.

"The punch," the jaunty nerd cracked.

***

_Just before the Typhoon Dragon had swooped in for a landing. . ._

It had all started with the punch. Those cretins must've spiked it. It was the only way she could explain everyone's strange behavior. Morgan had always been affectionate. However, after he drank the punch, he just spewed his love for her _and Ellie_. _At least when we're in Hawaii I won't have to compete with her anymore._ "Wait . . . why would I go to Hawaii with a guy who's in love with a married woman?" she questioned herself while she took out the trash.

Anna heard a rustling by the cans. "Who's there?" She had two guesses and it started with a Jeff and ended with a Lester. "Alright you stalkers, I know you're out there. So come on out."

But before she was able to turn around, she was bound and gagged and a sack was forced over her head. This wasn't Jeff or Lester. Anna typically wasn't one to panic, but she couldn't help but let her worst fears take over under the circumstances. She couldn't see, she couldn't speak, and she couldn't move.

"_Mmmeeemmmm!!!_" Anna desperately tried to make as much noise as possible. But there was no way anyone could hear her over the speakers blasting Elvis' _Blue Hawaii_ in the backyard. Still, she had to do something. Her life depended on it.

At one point, she had heard John Casey and that British pansy, but then they were gone. Anna would've given anything for 'Mr. Love' to rescue her in his typical Morganator fashion, only she was sure that he had no idea where she was. All of a sudden, she felt herself being hoisted up on someone's shoulders.

This was it. _Do something Anna!_

"_MMMEEMMMM!!!_" She tried to make as much noise, any noise, that she could through her gagged mouth. She shook wildly, causing the sack to fall off her head. The man then put her down and slid open the side door of the delivery van.

From behind, another man loosened the gag. She turned and then she _knew_ who was responsible.

"Jason? What are you doing here? Why are you doing this?" the exasperated woman spewed out question after question.

"I'm getting you out of here." He couldn't believe how they had found her.

Anna was most definitely NOT going to go willingly with a psycho who bound, gagged, _and hooded_ his ex-girlfriend. She might be into foreplay, but even this vixen drew the line at hoods.

"No you're not. I'm with Morgan. He loves me."

"He sure has a funny way of showing it."

"That may be true, but so do you . . ." _Freak! _

Anna heard a noise from behind the van. It was . . . _Lester_??? The little Indian tossed a 151 soaked brown paper bag into the van and then high-tailed it out of there. Then she noticed Roan by the side of the house. He took his cigarette and lit what appeared to be a pack of bottle rockets. They whizzed toward her. Anna ducked right while Jason and his henchman ducked left.

_POP!!!! _A couple rockets made contact with the Everclear doused bag igniting it and its contents. The van erupted in flames as the fireworks in the bag began to detonate in succession.

Anna looked up and there he was – her savior. Morgan reached out his hand and guided them to safety. With a small paring knife from his new set, he cut through and released her from her bindings.

"Anna, I'm so sorry about this loser. Did he hurt you?"

"No, but he might've if you hadn't come along."

Relief swept over both them. He then motioned back to the van. "And now for the final act of an 'Evening With Morgan'; we will see what happens to a stalker's van when he messes with my girlfriend."

"Oh Morgan." He had saved her but all was not yet forgiven.

"You know, Ms. Wu, I've wanted to go to Hawaii _with you_ ever since I saw you in that gloriously short grass skirt during the Missile Command exhibition."

"Oh, yeah?" she shyly asked, looking down. "Well, tell me one thing . . . "

"Anything my hula girl." Whether Anna knew it or not, Morgan's offer went far beyond any revelation he had ever disclosed to her before, because Morgan had to tell her the truth.

"What did Ellie wear tonight?"

"You know, I'm not sure." The manboy scrunched his furry brows, "I should know that, but the truth is . . . I don't remember. Why?"

It was all she needed. Morgan might love her and Ellie, and perhaps every woman that he ever sold a blender to, but importantly, he _lusted _after her.

"Oh Morgan, you passed."

Anna jumped into his arms, wrapped her legs around his waist, and proceeded to lay kiss after kiss on him.

"I passed!" He beamed as his girlfriend continued her welcome attack on his Adam's apple, neck, chin, ears, and everywhere in between.

Roan and Lester cornered Jason but his henchman got away running straight toward the vacant house across the street. Roan turned away from Lester and spoke into his watch, "One coming your way, Walker."

Roan then turned back to his accomplice. "We don't want to be rude to our guest. Why don't you get him some punch before we send him on his way."

"Are you sure about this, sir? Shouldn't we . . ."

"Don't worry, Mr. Patel," Roan interjected. "I have a feeling that he'll be singing like a canary in no time."

Lester ran to get some punch. As he did, Roan called into his watch, "I've got Wang. . . I'll meet you at the Crown Victoria."

Lester returned with the punch, handing it to Roan. "Thanks Lester. I believe. . . that the redhead in the dining room was asking about you a few moments ago."

"Which one?"

"Does it matter?"

"Good point," he responded for the second time that evening. He made his way back into the house.

Roan turned back to the apprehensive Asian pretty boy. "Here Mr. Wang. Drink this. And then tell me all about your plans as we watch the rockets' red glare."

***

"What's with the bombs bursting in air?" Casey quipped from inside the vacant house.

"It _is_ an Evening with Morgan," Sarah cocked her head to the side with a smirk. Casey groaned.

"You two get the antidote to Chuck. I'll take care of this Paine," Casey instructed. "Just make sure you save a couple doses for Roan and me."

Sarah rushed out the door, with Cole a few steps behind.

On the way back to the party, Jason's henchman approached Sarah with his gun drawn.

_We don't have time for this. _She needed to think of something quick – a diversion.

"You saved me! A guy put something in my drink. Then I ended up at this empty house. And _he_ wanted to have his way with me." Sarah turned, pointing to Cole. She had to be careful and say only things that were true. Otherwise, Barker would blow it.

"Wouldn't you do the same thing? Look at this magnificent woman," Cole said sweating and almost out of breath.

"Must be my lucky night," the thug said as he inched forward, pulling the lei from around Sarah's neck and then putting it on his own.

_My lucky night too. _Sarah looked back to Barker's tacky tie-dye shirt and winked.

She turned back to the thug and reached up to the lei on his neck, running her fingers around it. This was no ordinary flower necklace, this lei was a CIA-issue costuming wonder. With one move, Agent Walker twisted and pulled it taut sending her would-be assailant to the ground. She held on tight until he quit shaking and collapsed to the ground.

"Why don't you just lei there instead?" Cole quipped.

Sarah groaned, "Come on. We need to get the antidote to Chuck."

***

"Have you gotten the antidote?" Chuck spoke into his watch.

Putting a finger to his ear, he listened for a second. "Okay . . . just meet me in the garage. . . . Yeah, trust me. I got it." Chuck said through several belabored breaths.

He turned back to Jill. His weakened condition was having the affect of weakening her resolve. "Chuck, you don't look so good."

"I know. I don't feel so good either. I've been drugged too. They're going to be here any minute. Just tell me what I need to do and get out of here."

"But Chuck, I can't . . ." she protested.

"Yes, you can and you will," he insisted.

Sadly she relented, "Just compare what we have already mixed with the antidote. I think it should be the same minus all the other ingredients contained in the punch – you know . . . the ginger ale, fruit punch, and liquor."

"Right, all the good stuff . . . Thanks Jill. Now go. . ."

"I love you Chuck," she said, while ducking out the back of the garage.

"Yeah, I know." It was the only sentiment he could express. The truth was he didn't love her anymore. Still, he couldn't help but wonder if she would've said those words had she been drugged like everyone else at the party.

***

"Nice fireworks _Larry_." Carina and Alex each took one of his arms as he walked back in the house. Even under the spell of truth serum, Agents Muumuu and Coconuts had no idea what his real name was. Still, the guy had to be better than his perverted pal.

"Oh . . . thank you," he nervously remarked, not because of the truth serum but largely due to the fact that he'd never had two women choose to be this close to him.

"Where did Chuck go?" Carina asked, sensing her opportunity to escape under the spy guise of having to find and protect the cooler nerd.

"The last I saw him he was heading to the garage to mix up some more punch."

"You know . . . I need a refill. Be right back." Carina exited quickly. Forrest snickered.

"So . . . what can you tell us about yourself?" Lester's lingering question was the best he could think of under the circumstances.

"I'm alone in the world." Forrest revealed. The truth serum was really starting to get to her as well.

"That's your biggest secret?" Lester sensed an opening, a connection, an attraction.

"No," she admitted quickly. She pursed her lips, trying hard not to say anything else. She needed to move quickly before this conversation got worse. Before she could leave though, the NSA agent blurted out, "I was once so obsessed with a guy that I boiled his pet rabbit when he broke up with me."

"Someone broke up with _her_?" Jeff looked dumbfounded.

Lester looked at Forrest and then Jeff in wide-eyed horror -- talk about _Fatal Attraction. _

Before Forrest could make a clean getaway to the garage, she was stopped by the ultimate interrogator who had been eyeing her all night. And worse, she was flanked by the party hosts and _her husband._

"So _Alex_," Ellie hiccuped. "I recognize you from some place. *hiccup* Have we seen you before?"

"You haven't. But he has," she divulged, pointing to Devon.

For his part, Devon had done his best to stay away from the wily pole dancer all night. Their last encounter had left him with the worst hangover imaginable and no memory of what had happened. Unfortunately, now there was no escape.

"Hey babe, wouldn't you like to get some more punch?" Devon offered.

"Nope, I'm just *hiccup* fine, _Devon_," his wife insisted. "So, when did you meet?"

"My bachelor party," Devon blurted out. _Not awesome._

"Well, _Alex_ . . . my _husband _. . . *hiccup* . . . sure doesn't seem . . . *hiccup* . . . to remember what . . . *hiccup* . . . happened between you two, . . . *hiccup* . . . so could you . . . *hiccup* . . . tell me?" The bloodhound sleuth was going to get to the bottom of this mystery whether she could stop hiccuping or not.

"Nothing, I just tranq'ed him." Forrest said, jetting out the room without delay.

"What?" Ellie questioned.

"She said she just 'thanked' him." Bolonia offered, but neither couple really understood the dancer's hasty disclosure.

***

"I'm so glad you two showed up," Chuck said with his hands already up as Carina and Forrest entered the garage.

"You get one chance. Drop your guns," Vincent instructed.

"They don't have any guns," Chuck responded.

Déjà vu . . . _again_.

Vincent looked Chuck perplexed, "Why would you do that?"

"Because I told them 'No guns at the luau.'"

"I'm not falling for that lie _again,_" the mangled man rebutted.

"What? Come on, Casey's not here," Chuck offered. Vincent lowered his weapon for a moment.

"But I am." Forrest pulled her compact FN Five-seveN out from under her grass skirt. With split second precision, she squeezed the trigger, launching a single round into the chest of their undead rival.

"Say 'hello' to Agent Alex Forrest," Carina remarked, kicking the downed villain's gun away from him.

"The female John Casey." Chuck finished as he weakly dropped down to his knees in confusion and conflict over having just killed the man _again. _"Not that I want anybody to die, but why won't he just die?"

"Got me." Carina sneered at the charred corpse turning his head to his 'good side'.

"Check him," Forrest instructed with her weapon still pointed at him.

Carina placed her fingers on the right side of his neck and waited. "He's dead."

"You check on the rest of the party guests. I'll take care of him." Forrest said as she started to drag the body away from the garage.

***

Mere seconds later, Sarah and Cole arrived with the antidote.

"You know what you're doing?" Sarah asked Chuck.

"Yep."

"Where did you get . . ."

"AHHH!" He didn't need any distractions, but he also didn't need any questions that he wouldn't be able to fib his way around . . . not yet.

Chuck poured half of the antidote into the analyzer and waited for it to register. He compared its chemical make-up with the solution Jill had mixed up for him. Perfect match, minus the ginger ale, fruit punch, and liquor.

He looked at Sarah trying desperately to concentrate. "It's ready. We just gotta hand it out . . ." Before he could finish his thought, he fell to the ground.

"Chuck!" Sarah dropped down with him.

"You stay with him, I'll take care of it." Cole grabbed the punch bowl and left.

"Here, Chuck, drink this," Sarah said, giving him the remaining antidote.

"No Sarah, we might need the concentrate in the future." Chuck paused, "Just get me some of the punch and don't forget to get some for you, I know it has some effect on . . ." His voice trailed off and he passed out. There was no time. And she was not going to leave him under any circumstances.

"You know what Chuck? I don't care if the government could use it. You're getting it." She put the vial up to this lips and poured it down. But nothing happened.

Stillness. Silence. Nothing.

"Come on Chuck," she pleaded, "You can't leave me now. WAKE UP!"

He gave no response. Her head was pounding. Her chest aching.

"Not after everything that we've been through. Not today."

She had to do something.

"Dammit! Why did you have to drink so much of that punch?" She slapped him hard. Still nothing. Left without anything else she could do, Sarah began to sob helplessly, breaking down as he rested in her arms.

"We didn't . . . even get to have . . . _our talk_. I didn't get to tell you how I feel." She leaned her face against his and her tears hit his cheeks. She held him tightly, rocking back and forth desperately wanting some reaction, some response, anything.

Barely a whisper, she felt more than heard his lips move, "How do you _feel_, Agent Walker?"

She raised up with glassy red eyes to look into his, "What? . . . _Chuck_!"

He slowly opened his glazed over eyes, blinking a few times.

"Are you okay?" She wiped her eyes clear with the back of her hand.

"I think so," he slowly raised his head up.

"What were you saying just now?"

She concentrated hard, breathing deeply before she lied, "Oh, nothing."

"Cause I could swear that you were under the spell of a truth serum." He smiled weakly but genuinely.

"Well, there's something about a near death experience that seems to get at the truth, at the heart of things . . ." she half-smiled.

"You don't say? Well, maybe I should almost die more often."

***

"So we're dying to know Carina . . ." Morgan asked with Anna on his lap.

"What's that Morgan?" Carina asked while handing him a cup of the new punch.

Morgan couldn't believe it, she knew his name. Emboldened, he asked, "Okay. What's your big secret?"

Carina had had enough of telling the truth, but she looked back at the guy and figured, 'what the heck?' He was leaving in the morning and besides, it might give the kid a thrill. With an impish grin, she leaned in close to them and whispered something completely inaudible to everyone except for the little couple. Anna's jaw dropped and Morgan's eyes bugged out as he spewed his drink back into his cup. "Really??!!!"

Jeff muttered to himself, "His beard holds so many secrets, as does Anna's grass skirt."

Carina winked back at them as she handed two cups to Sarah and Chuck who had just walked into the dining room.

"Guess it's time for another toast," Big Mike offered, looking at Chuck.

Chuck cleared his throat. "Here's to an exciting Evening with Morgan, the best friend a guy could ever have. And to Anna for putting up with him in spite of his quirks. We love you buddy!"

"Cheers!" the remaining guests all said in unison.

"Oh, and here's to a safe trip for you and Anna. Try not to run into Harry Tang when you're on the Big Isle," Chuck added.

Big Mike suddenly had a great idea. "That reminds me, Bolonia. We outta take a trip to see them when they get settled." Only the big man wasn't thinking about Morgan and Anna, or even Bolonia. No, he was thinking about his other true love – _Ms. Pu Tang._

Morgan looked at Chuck sadly. It was all starting to set in. Tomorrow he was leaving for Hawaii and this was the last time he would see his best friend.

"What? Please don't start that Donnie and Marie and Laverne and Shirley stuff again," Chuck joked.

There were no words for this bromance. In typical Morgan fashion, he jumped into his true love's arms.

"Umm, Morgan. . . I'm gonna miss you too. But . . . could you get down? . . . Everybody's watching . . ."

Reluctantly, the little man hopped down and ran away. He just couldn't bear it. It was too hard to say goodbye.

As Chuck and Sarah walked down the porch steps and started toward the car, a familiar refrain wafted over the speakers out back – _Finley Quaye's Dice._ Chuck looked back toward the house and smiled. He was really going to miss his friend.

Sarah gave him a reassuring squeeze. "Let's get your sister and Devon home."

***

Cole handed Alex a cup of punch as he met her outside the house. She closed the trunk on the Aston Martin and made her way to the passenger side.

"Agent Forrest, you shouldn't have. Finally, something befitting a MI-6 agent." The Brit happily hopped in the driver's seat. "If only we had a proper name for Barker's beauty."

"Don't even think about giving me one of those names," she warned.

"Wouldn't dream of anything racy like 'Candy Apples,'" he said with a raised brow.

"No?"

"What about Dixie Chase, Kitty Hopper, or, if we must . . . Charity Swallows?"

"What about we focus on getting the antidote and Vincent's body to the Castle before you swallow my Glock?" Agent Protocol threatened.

"Miss Firey Netherlands did you forget that your Glock is in Agent Casey's car?" Cole smirked at his own innuendo. "Since you're here, just a thought love, how about . . . Mia Horne?"

"You want a name? How about Ida Wanchu?" she scoffed.

"I get your point," Cole pouted as he pulled out of the driveway. _Well, at least there was always Carina._

***

Carina sat in the car as Chuck and Sarah saw the Woodcombs to their door.

Devon leaned over to Chuck, "Your toast came just in time, bro."

"Yeah?"

"Ellie was starting to ask questions about your future with Sarah and I didn't know what to say."

"I know what you mean," Chuck responded, glancing back at his girlfriend . . . his real girlfriend.

"All in good time, bro. All in good time."

***

It was as good a time as any to talk now that they were safely back at the hotel. Chuck summoned the strength to ask what had been on his mind ever since their talk earlier that evening in the Grimes kitchen.

"So, you have a resistance to Pentathol?" It was a rhetorical question, not the _real question. _Rather, it was a gateway to get to the question that he really wanted to ask.

"Yeah, well, not completely. I mean . . . most of the time I am telling the truth; it's the details that are different. You know that," Sarah said without really saying anything.

With his absent nod, she knew that she would have to give him more than what she just told him.

"When I would lie . . . I would have to concentrate hard and really think about what I'm saying," Sarah offered but still, it didn't seem to be enough.

"So I really need to know . . ." Chuck started. _Here goes nothing._

"Yes?" _Here goes everything._

"The first time we were drugged, were you telling the truth?" He swallowed hard, waiting for her response.

"Which part?"

"You know, when I asked you if _this_ was going anywhere and you said 'no'?" She could still see the hurt in his pleading eyes, even if it had dissipated some, it was still there.

"The truth is . . . " she paused, "at that time, I didn't think it was possible."

"And now?" His question lingered. She considered her response, only she didn't know what to say. But, she had to say something.

"Why don't you ask me a better question?" she suggested, taking hold of his hands and looking deep into his eyes.

Normally he'd be put off, but he could tell by her open unguarded expression that she wasn't delaying him this time. Instead, she was directing him to ask what he really wanted to know – not what she thought would happen, but what _she_ _wanted to happen_.

"Sarah, do you want this to go somewhere?" That question she could answer.

"Why don't I show you where I'd like for it to go?"

"Are you serious?" Chuck laughed.

"What?"

"You do realize what you just said? Oh my god, I'm with the most beautiful woman in the world and she's throwing innuendo around like it's not going to drive me _crazy_?" Chuck rolled his eyes and let out a breath through his wide grin.

"Oh, I don't intend for you to go anywhere but right here," she said suggestively. She motioned for him to come hither and he eagerly complied, putting his arms around her waist.

She started kissing his neck. Suddenly, shivers went down his spine, up to his head, and into places that had only recently been explored by this striking woman. However, these shivers weren't due completely to the attention she was giving him. Instead, something in his brain was also turned on.

Sensing his rigidity, Sarah opened her eyes and noticed the fluttering of Chuck's.

"Chuck_,_ did you just flash?" she asked.

"Ummm, yeah." He blinked deliberately a few times.

"But I don't understand . . . I quit wearing that blue sapphire ring years ago." She turned her head to the side.

"Oh, it wasn't that kind of flash," he said, almost under his breath.

"Tell me." She sat him down on the bed.

With a mischievous grin he replied, "You're not going to believe what I just found out was in the Intersect 2.0."

For once, Chuck began to 'show' instead of 'tell'. He pushed her hair behind her ear and trailed soft breathy kisses from her ear to her neck. Then his fingers reached under the strap of her bikini from her shoulder trailing them down and behind. With two fingers he reached the clasp in the back. In one deft move, he released her from the binding, letting her top fall down. She gasped. He returned his lips to hers and softly began to kiss her slowly, sensuously, . . . with kind of kiss that lingered for days.

As much as Sarah was enjoying the attention, something seemed off to her. "Wait, I know these moves."

"Oh yeah?" he whispered in her ear not stopping his hands from trailing from her back and forward to the places where her top had previously covered.

"_Yessss_. Seduction 101, taught by Roan Montgomery." Sarah let out a long breath and pursed her lips with newfound determination. She started to cover herself up as she backed away from him. She didn't know what to say, but this felt _wrong_.

"What's wrong?"

She considered her response for a moment. "Chuck, I don't want to be seduced by the Intersect."

He looked at her and sighed. Now he was the one that didn't know what to say.

"I want to be lo . . . I want to be with you –with Chuck."

***

Outside the room, a voyeur was listening. "Are you kidding?" Carina gasped. "I'd take the Intersect."

"Come now darling, it sounds as though they might be awhile. How about a nightcap, _Miss Cherry Onatopp_?" Barker asked the beauty.

Carina looked back at the Brit and smirked. _He'd do for now. _As they walked out she said, "Alright, but only if you promise to get lessons from the Intersect later."

***

"I'd rather know what Chuck would do," Sarah said, almost bashful.

"You're kidding." Chuck couldn't help but chuckle, albeit nervously.

She looked back at him with genuine eyes. He could sense that she was being completely honest with him. "Do I look like I'm kidding?" She slowly reached for his hands and placed them back on her. She kissed his bottom lip gently. Moving from his lips to his jaw line and then up to his ear, she ghosted soft kisses all along the way. She whispered lowly in his ear, "If you do the Bartowski eyebrow dance and point your guns at me, I just might be yours forever."

"That's the truth?" he turned and asked with dark, devoted eyes.

She nodded, looking into his sincere gaze. She reached up with her thumbs and stroked his brows as he closed his eyes. Her forehead met his. Then she said the last thing that was spoken by either of them that night.

"The truth is, Charles Bartowski, there is no other place that I'd rather be than here with you."

***

The next morning Team Zodiac gathered in front of the Castle screen as General Beckman began.

"We have analyzed the Plutonium contained in La Ciudad's necklace. It's real. More importantly, as you can see from the satellite thermal imagery, we've been monitoring a shipment of radioactive material that left Chechnya two days ago. It appears that the shipment may arrive stateside any day now."

"Based on intelligence obtained by Agent Montgomery during his interrogation of Jason Wang, we have learned that some of Team Zodiac's Most Wanted, along with members of Triad, Fulcrum, and the Ring may be in attendance at the upcoming Chinese Consulate dinner later this week. It is believed that what remains of La Ciudad's organization may use this opportunity to sell the Plutonium to whomever is the highest bidder."

"Agent Montgomery has formulated a plan with Agent Walker and Mr. Bartowski acting as party guests." The General focused on Agent Walker. "You will serve up a _distraction_ of your own making," she said with a raised brow. "This will give Team Zodiac access to the Consulate's back rooms where we believe a deal may be going down."

"General, I must decline."

"Agent Walker, what are you saying?" Beckman moved closer to the screen.

"Given Chuck's importance to this country's intelligence now, I think it would be best if he watched from the surveillance feeds."

Chuck eyes bugged out and his jaw dropped. _Did she just say that I couldn't handle myself? Didn't our talk mean anything? Didn't she see how I took down Banachek's thug, La Ciudad, and Lazlo? What about when I figured out we were drugged and came up with the antidote? What do I have to do to prove myself?_Chuck's head raced to catch up while his emotions went into misunderstanding overdrive.

Agent Forrest spoke up, "I agree with Agent Walker's assessment."

"_What?_" Chuck asked in disbelief.

"While I believe that Agent Walker could protect the Intersect, it's risky having him out in the field given the possibility that this could be some sort of attempt to lure him into the open."

Suddenly Chuck remembered his conversation with Ned Rhyerson—the one about the hunting dogs luring the birds out in the open. The argument seemed to make sense coming from Agent Protocol's perspective, _but from Sarah_?

"These escapees do seem to know everything about Chuck's past and his contacts. And it appears that there has been an increased effort by them to coordinate their efforts," Casey added.

_And now Casey too? _

"Colonel Casey has a point. It is hard to believe that Triad, Reardon Paine, and Vincent Smith all just happened to show up at the Grimes residence on the same night." Cole said.

_Well, we all know what he wants._

"Are you sure about this Agent Walker?" the General asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Fine. Agent Barker can serve as Agent Walker's date. Chuck, you stay in the van."

_Great. We're back to that now. _

"Wha. . . don't I get a say in this?"

The General flashed off.

"I guess not," Chuck fumed. He had to get out of there.

***

"Chuck, wait!" Sarah pleaded, catching up to him in the Orange Orange freezer.

"What was _THAT_ all about?" Chuck seethed.

"What do you mean?" Sarah tried to look innocent. She failed.

"Just when I started to really contribute, you have me benched? You said that you were going to start trusting me."

She didn't know what to say.

"What happened to treating me as a real member of the team? I did remember that correctly, didn't I? You know, when you said that . . . before we did what we did yesterday?"

"Yes, I meant what I said . . . before we did what we did. But Chuck, this wasn't about you," she answered meekly.

"Correct me if I'm wrong . . . I was the only one mentioned in the 'It's not safe enough for Chuck' argument, wasn't I?" he vented, making air quotes with his fingers.

"I said those things because I don't know that _I_ can keep you safe."

"But you've been doing it for two years now." He still didn't understand what she was really saying.

"Yes. But . . . the plan called for us . . . ," she paused, ". . . to be affectionate and use that as a distraction to get into some of the rooms at the Consulate."

"I'm still not seeing where that puts 'the Intersect' in harm's way," he said, pointing to himself.

Sarah bit her bottom lip. She hated fighting with him – especially when he was right. But the problem wasn't him. The problem was her.

And there was another problem. She hated how hot he was when he got stirred up like this. It was a good thing that they were in the freezer, she thought as she let out a deep breath.

"It doesn't, when I've got my head in the mission." Her reticent admission seemed to calm his stormy disposition.

"So . . . what are you saying, Agent Walker?" his voice softening.

"I'm saying . . . that I can't make out with you in public and not be . . . _distracted_," Sarah said averting her compromised eyes.

Chuck's smirk gave way to a full out, gleaming smile.

"_What?_" she asked, still too embarrassed to look at him.

"Well maybe . . . we need to practice . . . in order for it not to be a problem," he grinned moving closer.

"_Chuuuck_," she drew out as he moved within an inch of her. _God it is so hot in here._ She knew that she had to be blushing practically all over.

"Sarah," he breathed into her, closing the distance with a fervent kiss.

The temporary frost between them had completely thawed with the re-direction of the considerable heat that had just been laid bare from their argument. Chuck pressed Sarah into the racks of shelves as condiment containers rattled due to the force of their impact. She pushed him back to the door _hard_, but neither lost contact as their kiss deepened. Their hands struggled to keep up with their mouths – hers on his chest and in his hair, his on her neck and around the small of her back.

Suddenly they both heard something from behind; he felt a rush of sensations as a familiar tingling went up his spine. Chuck reached underneath Sarah's waistband. She let out a gasp as he reached down and inside for the hidden delight – one of her Trademark Ninja throwing knives. Without taking his lips off hers, Chuck flicked the knife at the oncoming target. It landed within an inch of Cole Barker's head.

"Good grief, man. Are you off your head?" the astounded Brit asked, staring at the knife that almost took off his own head.

"Huh?"

"Are you crazy man? It's just a mission."

"Just think if I'd told the Intersect not to miss," he said with a wily smirk.

"You know, I think I liked you better with guns." Cole muttered at Chuck as he walked out the freezer.

Chuck unwrapped himself from Sarah's arms and retrieved the throwing knife as the rest of Team Zodiac came through the freezer and made their exits. He considered the knife as he handed it back to its owner. It had been the second time in three days that the Intersect had given him information on throwing knives, various launch trajectories, and even the required force necessary to make certain impacts. Only the second time was a little different, with less subconscious thought. He couldn't say for sure but it seemed as though the Intersect was trying to teaching him a new skill.

_Perhaps the Intersect could teach an apt nerd new tricks._

"So, Agent Walker, I guess the question is what are we going to do to help you not be so _distracted_?" Chuck kidded as they followed the rest of Team Zodiac out the door.

"I don't know, but do you think you could teach me that toss of yours? It could come in handy the next time Barker comes on to me," she smirked.

***

As the team left, the slow sound of the zipper from a body bag was heard in the Castle.


	10. The Enemy Within

_Many thanks to my beta **TimeWalker05**. Any mistakes happened when I ignored his great advice._

**CHUCK VERSUS THE TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE,**

**NO GOOD, REALLY BAD DAY**

**Chapter 10**

**by by MySoapBox**

**The Enemy Within**

* * *

Jason Wang looked up from his spot on the floor in the corner of the cell. He watched his cellmate approach a large, black, oblong bag that lay on the opposite side of the small room. "Hey, Ned, right? Why don't you leave that alone?" he said to the man.

"I thought I heard a gurgling sound," Ned said as he started to examine the bag.

Jason took a deep breath to steady himself. He didn't like to be in small spaces. Especially in small spaces with a man who looked like he was a few eggs short of a dozen and a body bag that was filled with the body of the mummy man Uncle Ben forced him to take along to the 'boyfriend's' house.

"Why did they put this thing in here with us? Don't you wonder what's in it?" Ned asked as he reached for the zipper pull.

"I know what's in it," Jason said. "I just don't want to see it."

"But it's making noises." Ned pulled on the zipper, slowly exposing its contents.

Jason turned his head away.

"Ew!" Ned exclaimed. "This guy looks like he's been through a meat grinder."

Jason concentrated on breathing through his mouth. The last 24 hours has been bad enough. He didn't need to have the image and smell of some butchered corpse burned into his brain for the rest of his life.

"Hey," Ned said. "I think it might still be alive. I think it twitched." Ned put his head down towards the cadaver's chest. "I think I hear its heart beating."

"You're just hearing the body settle. It's normal. Trust me, that guy is good and dead."

"But I hear something," Ned insisted. "Maybe I should give it mouth to mouth. I certified while I was still in prison last summer," he said proudly as he reached his hands into the bag. "I'll have to move some of these bandages out of the way."

Jason thought he might lose his breakfast. He turned his back on the sight and didn't say more to his crazed cell partner. He just hoped that his full cooperation with the agents would mean a quick ticket out of this place. Wherever this place was.

* * *

Team Zodiac had settled into yet another hotel. Casey was trying to brief Chuck on some new surveillance procedures in preparation for their upcoming mission while Carina and Sarah did some sparing on the other side of the room.

Chuck watched the two women kick and block, strike and dodge. It was seductive and dangerous at the same time.

"Chuck. Chuck! Just 'cuz you're finally getting your gun polished doesn't mean you don't have to work."

Chuck hunched back over the table. "Do they have to do that in here? It's distracting."

"Well they can't do it down in the gym in front of all those yuppies with their Wall Street Journals and Starbucks now, can they?"

"I suppose not." He looked up to see Sarah land a firm but controlled kick to Carina's gut. He could have sworn he heard Sarah say something about goldfish.

"Mind on the mission, soldier," Casey ordered.

Chuck pulled his eyes away from the bead of perspiration that was running down the center of Sarah's back and focused once again on the schematics on the table.

"Sometimes I hate this job," he grumbled.

* * *

Ellie stopped at the Buy More on her way home from work. She didn't want to, but when you need a printer cartridge, you need a printer cartridge. It was the only thing she missed about Chuck quitting his job. She couldn't just text him to bring home a box of red pens, or the latest Sarah McLaughlin CD or, in this case, a black printer cartridge.

She saw Lester sitting behind the Nerd Herd desk. She looked around and, seeing no other help available, suppressed the queasiness in her stomach and approached.

"Hi, El...Elizabeth," he said. "That was quite a Luau last night, hu? You know I think someone put something in our punch because, boy, did we let loose." He did a little sort of jerky dance behind the desk. Ellie was glad she could only see his top half.

"Yeah, okay, I need a printer cartridge." She fished a crumpled piece of paper from her purse. "There's the number," she said as she handed it to him.

"Oh, I see. The Lexmark 18C0035. A classy cartridge for a classy lady." He walked from behind the counter and led her to the printer aisle. "This is your lucky day because I am the King of Cartridges."

"That's great, because I'm in a hurry."

"Not to worry, not to worry." He bent over to scrutinize the boxes. "Let's see, the X340A, the 12A726, um…." The long haired Indian continued down the aisle, examining boxes and muttering to himself.

Coming from the opposite direction Ellie saw a perky middle eastern looking girl approach Lester.

"Hey!" she said in a girly voice.

"Hey yourself," he said. "Haven't seen you in a few days."

"Yeah, well, you were always my best customer." She reached out and fingered the name badge on his chest. "And I kind of missed this place."

Lester fumbled the box he was holding. "You missed me…I mean, us. That's great…"

"Excuse me!" Ellie said. She was more than irritate. "Do you have my cartridge or not?"

"Ah yes, Eleanor. I have it right here." He held up the box and cross referenced it with the crumpled paper she had given him. "See, I told you we had it."

"Thanks," she said dutifully.

As she turned to leave Lester called after her. "Hey, tell Chuck I'm this close," he held up his fingers an inch apart, "from being Big Mike's new ass man."

Even though Ellie had no idea what he was talking about, she didn't ask for clarification. She had just finished an eight hour shift after only three hours sleep and she just wanted to go home. "Um, okay," she said and turned and started walking out of the store.

"This close!" he called after her, still holding his fingers in the air.

The middle eastern girl put her hand on his arm, and tilted her head to the side. "Was that Chuck's girlfriend?"

"No, his sister. But don't worry, we're not an item or anything. She's married. Hey, where 'ya going?" he called after her.

"Bye" she called back over her shoulder. She didn't even turn to wave.

* * *

An hour and three schematics later, Chuck felt his iPhone vibrate and pulled it out. The familiar face of his sister graced the phone's screen. "It's Ellie. I could use a break anyway," he told Casey as he stood from the table.

"Hey El, what's up?" he said into the phone.

But the sing song voice that answered was definitely not Ellie. "Hi Chuck. You can't believe what I've gone through to find you," the voice said.

"Who is this?" Chuck said, waving to Casey to get his attention.

"I'm hurt. I thought for sure you would remember me, after all the deliveries I've made to the Buy More."

"Lizzie," Chuck growled. "What have you done with Ellie?"

Casey stood with his ear next to Chuck's. Sarah and Carina stopped sparing and came over to see what was going on.

"Oh good," Lizzie said. "You do remember me. I'm flattered. I have someone here who wants to talk to you."

Another voice came on the line. "Chuck? Hey little brother? What's going on?"

"Ellie? Is that you?" Chuck shouted into the phone.

Casey looked up to Sarah and Carina. He placed his thumb over the phone's pickup. "Lizzie's got Ellie and she sounds like she's been drugged," he said.

Lizzie came back on the line. "You see, I have something that is very important to you…"

"If you hurt her, I swear to God…"

"You're in no position to make threats, Chuck. Meet me at the garages behind the Auto Club Speedway in Fontana in one hour. Come alone."

The line went dead.

Chuck felt all the blood drain from his face. He turned to Casey. "Oh my God. What are we going to do?"

"Scramble the team."

* * *

While everyone gathered in the hotel room, Sarah kept Chuck busy. First she had him call Devon to make sure he wasn't a second hostage. They learned that Devon had been in surgery all morning and wasn't going to be out until later that afternoon. That was one less thing to worry about. Then Sarah had Chuck Google a map of the Speedway. She knew making him feel useful was a way to keep him calm.

Casey and Forrest were going through their arsenal as Carina sat quietly on the edge of the bed filing her nails.

Cole shouldered in the door in with Roan slung over his shoulder and unloaded him on the bed. "Everyone accounted for," he said wryly.

Sarah leaned over Roan and patted his face. "Roan. Roan, wake up!"

The older man took a deep breath and started to stir. "Ah! A beautiful lady friend to keep me company. You finally saw that Chuck wasn't man enough for you, did you?"

"He's sloshed," Casey grumbled.

Sarah pushed Roan's reaching arms away. "So it seems."

Roan started to snore softly.

"Nice," Carina said.

"Guys - Ellie?" Chuck said anxiously.

Sarah stood and made her way to the computer. "You're right Chuck. Tell us what you found."

"There's two rows of garages just east of the Speedway." He pointed to the screen. "That would be these buildings with the red roofs."

Forrest indicated the rim of the stadium. "That would be a great place for a sniper."

Sarah nodded. "Carina, how are you with a rifle?"

She looked up from her nails. "I always thought my strength was interpersonal relations."

"Carina." Sarah's voice was a warning.

Carina sighed. "I can handle a rifle all right."

"Great," Sarah said. "Set up here," she indicated a small hotel across the street. "That will cover the area from both directions. Now, as for the rest of us. How do we get Ellie out? Ideas?"

"I don't see why we're going to all the trouble. One civilian is an acceptable loss," Forrest said. "Collateral damage."

"Hey, that's…" Chuck began.

Sarah held up a hand and cut him off. "Ellie Bartowski will receive our full protection. Other ideas?"

Casey chimed in. "I've got a Callahan full-bore auto lock with customized trigger double cartridge thorough gauge out in the Vic."

Forrest seemed very impressed. "Really? I've always wanted to fire one of those."

"Yeah, I could blow the door right off that place."

Chuck spoke up again, "I don't think…"

"No explosions. Ellie could be hurt and we'd be headline news."

Casey leaned over to Forrest and said under his breath, "I can show her to you after the mission if you want. I call her Vera."

Sarah cleared her throat. "Anyone else?"

"What's this Lizzie's plan?" Cole asked. "Do we know if she's working with anyone?"

Sarah shook her head. "We don't know."

"We're running out of time," Chuck said.

Cole's eyes lit up. "Stun grenades. Distract the dragon, save the damsel."

"Great idea." Carina's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "I'll just go grab one out of my purse. I usually carry three or four along with my shield and sword."

"We have flash-bangs at the Castle," Casey said.

"I can go get them," Cole offered, "and meet you there. It shouldn't take more than forty minutes."

"Forty minutes!" Chuck protested. "Ellie might be dead by then."

"You got another plan, genius?" Casey asked.

"Yeah, I'll trade myself for Ellie." Chuck said. "It'll buy you guys some time to come up with a way to rescue me."

Casey stepped towards Chuck one finger raised. "Not an option. You go in there and she'll put a bullet right between your eyes." Casey poked Chuck in the forehead.

Sarah checked her watch. "Cole, go for the stun grenades. Casey and I will do recon."

"And what am I going to do?" Chuck asked.

"You'll work communications in the van and try to get us a real time satellite feed of the area." Chuck started to protest but Sarah shot him a hard look. "Chuck this isn't the time. You're roll is very important to the team." Her tone softened. "I need you there."

Chuck nodded his understanding and everyone stood to go.

"What do we do with him?" Cole asked jerking his thumb at Roan?

Sarah looked at Casey and he looked back at her. "Leave him," Casey said.

* * *

By the time they arrived at the designated location, they had only a few minutes until Ellie's time was up, and team Zodiac planned on making those minutes count. While Forrest and Carina went to set up their nests, Casey and Sarah investigated the site on foot.

The parking lot was virtually empty, and Sarah could only hear the loan engine of one car racing its way around the track. That was good news. The last thing they needed was a lot of civilian interference. The garages were all closed and looked deserted.

With gun drawn Sarah made her way around the corner. Seeing no one, she kept walking. Her thoughts turned to Chuck. Their new physical relationship was both exciting and frightening at the same time. It's what she wanted, she reminded herself. She had made that decision standing on the beach at Ellie's wedding. But now that they were together, would she be able to handle all the complications?

Suddenly a dark figure jumped from the shadows and kicked. She tried to dodge but she was too late. Everything went black.

* * *

Casey was on his way back to the van when Chuck's voice blared in his ear piece. "Casey, I've lost communication with Sarah."

Casey jogged the few steps to the van only to be met with a frantic Chuck. "What happened?" he asked.

"I had her on audio, and then there was a crackling sound and I lost contact."

Casey flipped some switches on the panel. "Walker. Can you hear me, Walker?" His only response was static. "Could be a faulty headset."

Chuck's phone buzzed. Ellie's picture came up on the screen.

Chuck hit speakerphone. "Hello?"

"Chuck, you've been a very bad boy. Didn't I tell you to come alone? Now I have the Weinerlicious girl too. Come to Garage D. I'm going to start hurting them in five minutes. If I see someone with you, I'll kill one of them."

The phone went dead.

"Casey!"

"Calm down Bartowski. At least we know where they are. Did you copy that Forrest?"

"Copy," came Forrest's voice across the sound system. "I'll take the shot if I can get one."

"Carina, go and see if you can find some sort of roof opening to Garage D. Anything big enough to shove a grenade down."

"Got it," came her reply.

Chuck looked up at Casey. "Now what?"

"Now, we wait."

* * *

Sarah could hear someone calling her name. She couldn't move her arms or legs. A feeling of panic swept over her and she struggled to focus her eyes in the dim light. When she recognized Ellie Bartowski it all came back to her. She cursed herself for getting distracted. A nice conk on the head was her reward for shoddy spy work.

"Sarah!" Ellie exclaimed, "Fancy meeting you here?" Ellie giggled.

Sarah noticed dark bruising below Ellie's eye and blood still dripping from a cut across her eyebrow. "Are you okay?" Sarah asked.

"I think so. Head wounds always look worse then they really are. Once I had this guy come in the ER, blood everywhere…"

Sarah interrupted her. "Ellie, are you hurt anywhere else?"

Ellie cocked her head to one side. "No, I don't think so. No, no, no. Not hurt. I would like to get up off this chair though. I have to go. Do you hear that?" she yelled out. "A girl's got to pee!" and then she started giggling again.

Lizzie entered from the shadows. "Well, well. The Weinerlicious girl is awake," she said sweetly. "You know, when I saw you sneaking around outside I was surprised. You're not who I expected at all."

"What did you do to Ellie?" Sarah demanded.

"I just gave her something to calm her down. She was getting a little hysterical."

Sarah tried to yank her hands free but they were held firm. She was handcuffed to a metal chair and her feet were tied as well.

"Don't worry," Lizzie said. "It won't be long. If Chuck isn't here in four minutes, I'm going to kill you."

* * *

Back in the van Chuck was starting to panic.

"Lizzie has Ellie_ and_ Sarah. I knew something like this would happen. It was just a matter of time."

"Don't worry," Casey said. "Walker can handle herself. And Cole should be back with the grenades any minute."

"What if he gets stuck in traffic? What am I saying? It's LA. Of course he'll get stuck in traffic!"

"Forrest has a sharp eye. If she sees a shot, she'll take it. So will Carina."

"And if they don't get a shot? And Cole doesn't show? What then? We've only got three minutes."

"Lizzie won't kill 'em. They're too valuable. She might cut off a finger or a toe."

Chuck's face went white.

Casey shrugged. "It's not so bad missing a digit. It hasn't been too bad for me."

"You know, your bedside manner could use improvement."

* * *

Sarah watched Lizzie pace anxiously across the floor. They were in one of the garages, but this one was mostly empty.

"Sarah, I don't understand any of this," Ellie said. "Who is that crazy woman? You know, it seems like she knows you somehow. Was she a corn dog girl too?"

Sarah decided to tell Ellie as much of the truth as she could. "She used to deliver pitas to the Buy More."

Ellie gasped, "She's the Shawarma girl?"

"You know her?"

"Oh yes! I head all about Jeff and Lester and their YouTube Video. It's shameless! Just shameless! No wonder she's so upset."

Sarah only nodded. She wasn't entirely sure what Ellie was talking about; she was just glad that Ellie had drawn some sort of satisfactory conclusion for herself in her demented condition.

Ellie started to hum something that sounded a little Jordin Sparks Battlefield when Lizzie took a silencer out of a bag and began attaching it to the end of her hand gun.

"Oh my God, Sarah." Ellie exclaimed. "First it was that hijacker at the Buy More. And that fake snow. All that fake snow in my hair and on my clothes. And now this. But this time there's no police outside. No red flashing lights. Is Chuck coming? I hope not. She's going to kill us. She'll just kill him, too."

"Don't worry, Chuck will know something's wrong. He'll get help."

"This wasn't the way I was planning to go," Ellie went on. "I was going to have a family, a home, a future. And now…"

"Shh, Ellie. Don't worry. We'll get out of this."

"Things just seemed to be going right in my life, ya know?" Ellie started to cry. "I got married to a great guy. And cute! Don't you think Devon is cute? And then Chuck quit the Buy More. And he found a great girl." Ellie grinned at Sarah through her tears. "Things were just about perfect. And then this morning it all went to hell! Hell, I tell you. And do you know what the worst part is? I still have to go!" She squirmed in her seat.

Sarah had finally worked the small lock pick out of the hem of her pants that she kept there just for this sort of emergency and started working on her lock.

"You want those things too, don't you, Sarah?" Ellie looked out over the garage smiling as if she could see all that she was imagining right before her eyes. "Family, children…a dog…maybe a cat…a small rabbit…"

Sarah twisted her wrists in her bonds. "I didn't use to," she answered honestly.

Ellie turned to her. "And now?"

Sarah found she didn't mind confessing her true feelings to this doped up Ellie. "And now, some days I want it more than anything I ever wanted in my life."

"So what's stopping you?"

Sarah shrugged. "It's complicated."

"Don't give me that complicated bull pucky! That's all Chuck ever says. 'It's complicated'," Ellie was trying to imitate Chuck in a low voice. " 'Don't nag me Ellie, it's complicated.' Do you know what I think? Do you want to know? I think it's all a big pile of crap. That's what I think. You two are just afraid of commitment. Afraid of getting hurt. Well, we're all afraid of that. But we risk it. Yes. We're all afraid…"

Ellie's voice trailed off. Her eyes seemed to lose their focus for a minute.

"Ellie?" Sarah asked concerned.

Ellie shook her head, trying to rid it of all the cobwebs. "You two are great together, you know?" she mumbled thickly. Unable to fight off the drugs effects, she closed her eyes and her head lolled off to the side.

"I know," Sarah answered quietly just as she popped her handcuffs open.

* * *

While her two hostages were talking, Lizzie pulled out her phone, dialed in a number, and waited for it to connect.

"Yeah, Tommy….I have his sister and that blond agent, too…What do you mean you're not coming?...What other plan? I didn't hear… But I have him now! He's coming now!...I'll do it myself then. I'll turn him in to the Ring and my position will be secured…Well, screw you!"

"Dammit!" Lizzie yelled, and she threw Ellie's phone against the corrugated aluminum wall.

* * *

Carina's voice came crackling across the airwaves. "I heard some yelling and a crashing sounds from Garage C."

"I'm on it."

Chuck looked at his watch. "Our times up, isn't it? Casey!" Chuck yelped. "We've got to get in there." Chuck reached for the door handle.

"Nothing doing, Bartowski. Your going to wait here. I'll go check it out."

"But Sarah and Ellie!" Chuck tried to push past the larger man.

"You're going to stay right here," Casey grabbed Chuck's right arm and twisted him into a headlock. "You got it?"

Chuck's eyes started to flutter and flashing images and symbols danced across his mind.

Suddenly and without thinking, Chuck swung his left arm up and over Casey's shoulder and pushed up hard against Casey's neck and chin. Already off balance stooped over in the van, Casey began to stumble. He let go of Chuck and took two forward steps to catch his balance. That was all Chuck needed. He lunged and caught Casey in the face with the heal of his hand. Blood spurt from Casey's nose.

Chuck turned from him opened the back door and jumped out onto the pavement.

* * *

Sarah took advantage of Lizzie's distraction to make her move. Lizzie turned just in time and raised her gun. Sarah kicked it from her hands. The gun went sliding across the cement floor. Lizzie countered with a punch that glanced off Sarah's face. Sarah swept Lizzie's calf causing her to fall hard. Sarah followed up with a kick to the ribs which Lizzie rolled into, grabbing Sarah's foot and toppling Sarah to the floor. Both women recovered their feet but Lizzie was a little faster and landed a kick into Sarah's ribs. Sarah doubled over, the wind knocked out of her. Another kick to the head and Sarah was laid out on the cement floor writhing in pain. Lizzie reached down and picked up her gun. She raised it to shoot when the door banged open and light filled the room.

"So the Intersect has finally arrived! My superiors will be so pleased when I kill you."

Lizzie pulled back on the hammer of her gun. It made a soft clicking sound.

With lighting fast reflexes, Chuck struck her gun hand down, grasped her forearm and twisted, directing the gun past his body. He then wrenched her wrist, forcing her to drop the gun.

Lizzie spun in turn, kicking out with her legs. Chuck quickly moved his head a fraction of an inch and missed the blow. Lizzie's momentum sent her sprawling, but she quickly recovered and dove for the gun.

Sarah, now on her hands and knees, reached out for the gun as well, but Lizzie got there first. She pointed the gun at Sarah and pulled back the hammer.

In only a fraction of a second, Chuck leapt and somersaulted through the air, kicking the gun away as it went off. The bullet whizzed past Sarah's head and hit the wall behind. Chuck rebounded with a back hand-spring, landing his feet heavily on Lizzie's chest.

Lizzie crumpled to the floor. Chuck stood over her body and picked up her head, holding it firmly in the crux of his arm. He tensed his muscles in preparation…

Sarah shouted out, "No, Chuck! Stop!"

Chuck froze. Sarah's cry had derailed him. He looked around him. Everything moved as if in slow motion. He saw the empty garage. The block of light across the floor from the open door. The dust spinning suspended in the air, lit up like tiny stars. Ellie, her feet and hands bound to a chair. He turned to see Sarah, a look of desperation in her eyes, her lips formed in the shape of a scream. And finally he looked down to his chest where he held the head of the woman he was about to kill. The Intersect had calculated it all: how much torque, how much force, all that would be necessary to snap her neck.

All this he took in in a fraction of a second, but time seemed to stand still. He took a deep breath, willed his muscles to loosened their hold on the woman, and dropped her torso to the ground where she lay unconscious.

Agent Forrest and Carina came in with guns drawn. Casey wasn't far behind, holding his SIG P220 in one hand and a bloodied cloth to his face with the other.

Carina was the first to put her gun away. She went to Lizzie, checked her over, reached in her back pocket for zip ties and secured the woman's wrists behind her back. "Good job, Chuck. Didn't know you had it in ya."

Chuck stood panting. His eyes had not left Sarah's. "Ellie." He managed between breaths. "Is she okay?"

"She's been drugged, but I think she'll be fine."

"And you?"

"I'm fine too," she said.

"Ellie…she was bleeding." Chuck numbly stumbled past Sarah over to Ellie. Agent Forrest joined him at Ellie's side. She checked Ellie's breathing, looked into her eyes and began work on her handcuffs.

Sarah turned to Casey. "What happened to you?"

"Dat scwany twerp wen baserk. 'E ' taut Lizzie abou oo urt one of you and 'e went wacko. I tri to hol 'im back. I tink my nose is boken."

"Chuck did that?"

Casey grunted in disgust. "Nod Tuck, the In'ersec."

"Casey, Chuck and the Intersect are one and the same. The sooner you accept that, the better."

Just then Cole came running into the garage. Breathless, Cole looked at Casey with his bloody towel. "Am I too late?" he asked.

* * *

By the time they had Ellie freed, a CIA ambulance had arrived on the scene. Ellie only regained consciousness just enough to mumble 'karate', 'Sarah', and 'peaches' as they loaded her into the ambulance. Sarah pushed Casey into the back of the ambulance as well, despite his protests.

All the other agents were turned away. The CIA medical unit said they would let them know what they found.

After helping Carina secure Lizzie in the back of the van, Sarah turned to talk to Chuck but he was gone. It only took her a minute to find him. As she rounded the corner of the garage, she could see his tall frame sitting under the shade of a tree at the edge of the parking lot.

Sarah sat down in the grass next to him and turned her eyes upward to see if she could see what he was seeing as he looked out across the sky.

It took a long time before he said anything, much longer than it usually did. Sarah had leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder. Behind her she could hear Casey and Cole talking. Then she heard the door close on the mission van and the van pulling away.

"I'm a monster, aren't I?" he finally said.

"You're not a monster."

"First I ruin the life of my sister, and then today…when I had Lizzie's head in my hands…I was going to…Oh God!"

"Shh, It's okay."

"It's not okay! If you hadn't been there…"

"I was."

"I nearly killed her, Sarah."

"But you didn't. You stopped."

"I didn't stop with that man in the stairwell, or La Ciudad."

"But you stopped this time."

"Because of you."

Sarah didn't know what to say in response. Chuck had been about to kill Lizzie. She saw that look in his eye, the one she had seen on partners' faces and one that no doubt had crossed her own face many times.

"I promised you that I'd be there for you."

Chuck wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in even closer. "And you have been."

They sat there trying to take comfort in one another. But even after several minutes Chuck didn't fully relax.

"This new Intersect…Sarah, it frightens me," Chuck finally said.

She wanted to say '_me too'_, but that wouldn't help Chuck, so instead she said, "We'll figure it out."

"How Sarah? Sometimes with the Intersect I feel unstoppable. Like earlier when I was fighting Lizzie, or with those men in the Intersect room. The things I can do… I'm like a superhero or something. But at the same time I wonder if I'm controlling the Intersect or is the Intersect controlling me? Like when I threw that knife at Cole. That was pure reflex; I wasn't really even thinking. Yeah, I laughed it off at the time but the more I think about it, it scares me. And then today with Casey…"

"I saw."

"Is he mad?"

"Oh, I think you should probably stay out of his way for awhile."

"See Sarah, that's exactly what I mean. I didn't want to hurt Casey. My body just did it. Like I'm some automaton."

"But you took control today. You were going to kill Lizzie, but you didn't."

"No, but I was ready to." He shifted slightly and turned his head so that she could see his face fully. The haunted look in his eyes frightened her.

When he spoke again his voice was just a whisper. "And to tell you the truth, part of me wanted to. She hurt Ellie and she hurt you; part of me wanted her dead."

"That's a totally normal way to feel when the people you love are in danger."

"I get that, but what if every time I feel hate or anger or even startled, the Intersect acts out on those feelings? That could be bad Sarah, really bad." Chuck sighed deeply. "I'm going to end up like Otto Octavius…but not with so many arms."

Sarah didn't bother to ask, she understood the gist. "You didn't use the Intersect while we were in Lazlo's house of horrors, or when Devon was dancing with La Ciudad, or when we were all drugged at the Luau."

"But you were with me those times. I'm safe with you," he said.

"I was with you today."

"No you weren't. You were in danger today. Like you were when I killed La Ciudad."

The truth of Chuck's words struck Sarah. Was his love for her going to turn Chuck into the ultimate killing machine? For the thousandth time she wished that Chuck had never uploaded the New Intersect. But at the same time she respected him for why he did.

She said the only thing she could think to say. "You're stronger than this thing, Chuck."

"I hope so."

"I know so."

Chuck wrapped his arms around Sarah again and held her tightly. After a moment he looked around the parking lot, as if he were aware of where he was for the first time. "I guess we should go and find the team."

Sarah snuggled deeper into Chuck's embrace. "I think we'll be okay here a few minutes longer."

Cole rounded the corner and approached them. "The medical team says they can drop Ellie off at her apartment now. We'll meet them there to get her settled."

"Is she alright?" Chuck asked.

"She'll be fine. They said they found Flunitrazepam in her system."

"The date rape drug?" Sarah asked.

Cole nodded. "In many ways she's lucky. Tomorrow she'll wake up and this will seem like some nightmare, if she remembers it at all."

"That's good news," Sarah said. "We'll talk to Devon tonight and come up with a believable cover story."

Chuck shook his head. "I hate lying to her, Sarah."

She squeezed his arm. "I know, but the less she knows the safer she'll be."

The couple stood and made their way to the Porsche. Cole jogged ahead toward the Vic where Casey was waiting with a large white bandage on his nose.

Chuck was glad that he and Sarah had come in a separate car so he could put off the wrath of Casey a few minutes longer. Sarah put her hand on the gear shift and started the engine. Chuck reached out and put his hand over hers.

"After all this is over, Sarah, if I survive, and they don't put me in some bunker, I don't think I should go back to live with Ellie and Devon. It just not safe for them."

Sarah let the car idle and turned to face him. "We'll keep protecting them, just like we always have."

"But it isn't just the bad guys I'm worried about." He looked down at his hands. They were still red and sore from his fight with Lizzy. "It's me. They aren't safe with _me_ anymore. And until I can learn to control this thing in my head, I'm not safe with anyone."

Sarah reached over and put her hand on his cheek, turning his face to hers. "That's not true. You're safe with me. We'll work this out. I promise."

Chuck smiled weakly and nodded his head. Sarah leaned over, kissed him chastely on the cheek, put the car in gear and let out the clutch.


	11. The Forbidden Kingdom

My friend **Timewalker05** was kind enough to beta this chapter, and I'm especially grateful for his encouragement and confidence in me. Thank you, TW!

The Forbidden Kingdom

by poa

Sarah blinked her eyes at Chuck's alarm clock. Ten pm. She'd been asleep for nearly two hours. The team had decided to regroup at the apartments for now; they were too exhausted to search out another hotel. Chuck and Sarah had fallen asleep in his old room as the rest of the team had settled into Casey's apartment. She glanced at the empty space beside her and frowned. Chuck had been so despondent. He was right; the new Intersect seemed to have changed him somehow. Her light-hearted Chuck was beginning to slowly slip away from her. She had told Casey that Chuck and the Intersect were one and the same, and even Chuck equated the Intersect's actions with his own. But now she realized that she had been wrong, and she wondered how to convince Chuck that he was not the Intersect after all. He was still Chuck; he was still the man she loved. She smiled softly. She did love him. And she would protect him. From Fulcrum, from the CIA, from the NSA, and especially, from himself.

_Fulcrum_. _The Ring_. Her expression suddenly hardened. According to Jill, a member of the extended Team Bartowski was supposed to capture Chuck. But who? Was that person close by? Roan? Forrest? And what about Cole? How was it that an MI-6 agent, one who was familiar with the Intersect, happened to be within shouting distance when all hell broke loose? And could they really take Jill at her word? She was a questionable source, at best.

At least she didn't have to worry about Carina. In fact, she was going to ask Carina to stay with Ellie and Devon for a while. Sarah wanted to have someone she trusted looking after her family. _Her family_? She smiled again. Yes, _her_ family, she realized. At some point, Chuck's family had become her family. After years of having an absentee father and a wayward sister, Sarah had finally found what she had been looking for, and she wasn't about to let anything, or anyone, interfere with it.

She swung herself out of bed, wearing her boy shorts and one of Chuck's t-shirts. She rummaged through his closet, withdrawing a small suitcase. Fortunately, they hadn't completely moved Chuck out of his old room—some of his clothes, a box of tattered Star Trek novels, and Sarah's suitcase remained. The case contained a fresh set of black fatigues. She dressed quickly, securing a set of small knives into her ankle holster. She also managed to tuck her gun, two more knives, and a set of zip ties into her outfit. She pulled her hair back and gathered it into an elastic band. She looked at herself in the mirror and frowned slightly. She walked over to the nightstand, picked up her gold earrings, and put them on. She returned to the mirror and then nodded firmly. Now she was ready.

She left the room and stepped softly to Ellie and Devon's bedroom. They had moved Ellie back into her own bedroom while she was still drugged. She peeked through the partially closed door. They were sleeping quietly together. Casey had called Devon and filled him in on the situation; Devon must have returned while she and Chuck were sleeping. She watched them for a moment, wishing that when they awoke, this nightmare would be over and they could finally settle into married bliss. Well, maybe she could do something about it.

She turned and walked into the living room, halting with surprise. Casey appeared to be dozing on the couch. He had exchanged the large bandage on his nose with a narrow strip of white tape across the bridge. He was also dressed in black, and Sarah smiled, noting that his right hand grasped the grip of his gun.

"You're up," he said quietly.

"Don't you ever sleep? Why aren't you at your apartment? I thought Agent Forrest was going to watch over Devon and Ellie."

Casey sat up slowly, holstering his gun. "The only way to make sure that Ellie and Devon stay safe is to watch them myself," said Casey. "Just a few hours ago, Ellie was strapped to a chair, bleeding." He looked away, and then spoke softly. "She doesn't deserve any of this."

Sarah sat down in a chair opposite Casey. "I know." She gestured toward his face. "How bad is it?"

"Just a fracture. That damned Intersect is starting to piss me off. Where is Chuck, anyway?"

Sarah tilted her head. "What do you mean, where's Chuck?"

"Well, weren't you compromising the hell out of yourself by sleeping with him. . . again?"

She ignored his implications. "He was with me, but he isn't now. Didn't he come out here?" Sarah stood up and scanned the apartment. _Don't panic_.

Casey stood up and together they searched the entire apartment.

"That moron better have a good excuse for this," grumbled Casey.

"Something's wrong," said Sarah. "He wouldn't have left on his own."

"I'll check in with the agents across the courtyard," said Casey. He walked over to his apartment. Roan had finally awakened and had taken a taxi over to the apartment complex. He and Cole were playing a game of chess. Carina was watching Casey's monitors. All three looked up expectantly as Casey entered.

"Where's Forrest?" asked Casey.

"She drove over to Castle to make sure our prisoners stayed put," Carina answered. "What's up?"

"Bartowski is missing. He couldn't have gotten past me in the apartment; he must have come out the Morgan door." He walked over to the monitors and began to recall the most recent footage. He had re-installed some of the surveillance equipment after finding out about the prison escape.

Carina rolled her chair back as he moved in front of her. "The _Morgan_ door?" She gave him an annoyed look. "Casey, my eyes have been glued to these monitors for the past two and a half hours. He did not leave the apartment."

"Yes he did," said Casey, advancing the images quickly. Nothing. _What the hell?_

Carina leaned forward. "You see? He didn't leave." She raised her eyebrows at him.

Casey turned away from the monitors and looked over at the chess board, thinking. "Dammit!" he muttered harshly. He bent over the monitor and re-examined the footage. "There's nobody on this tape!"

Carina exchanged glances with Cole and Roan. "Um, Casey, are you sure you aren't suffering from something more severe than a broken nose?"

Casey picked up the keyboard and threw it against the monitor. He spun around. "Where is Montgomery on this tape? In fact, why don't I see myself walking over here?"

"Oh, no," said Cole. "We've been monitoring a feedback loop. And Chuck is missing?"

Casey stormed out of the apartment, leaving three open-mouthed agents staring after him.

***

Chuck groaned and squeezed his eyes shut against the burning pain; his eyes watered continually. He was lying flat on his back on a hard wooden surface. His hands were bound above his head with an elastic cloth and attached to some kind of metal bar. He moved his legs and discovered that his feet were also secured tightly.

_Crap_, he thought_. I let that bastard get the drop on me, and the friggin' Intersect didn't do a damn thing_. He remembered leaving the apartment through his bedroom window with the intent of apologizing to Casey. He didn't even make it halfway across the courtyard to Casey's apartment before being sprayed in the face with some type of chemical. His vision instantly blackened and the searing pain in his eyes seemed to bore a hole directly into his brain. Just before a wet cloth was placed over his nose and mouth, he heard his attacker speak. _It is good to see you again_. And he knew immediately who it was: Ty Bennett—Casey's bad ass sensei.

Chuck moved his head to the side, brushing his eyes against his upper arm. Instead of relief, the burning sensation intensified.

"It will take some hours for the effects to dissipate."

Chuck turned his head toward the voice, and opened his eyes slightly. Bennett had entered the room silently and was standing a few feet from where Chuck was lying. Even with his heavily blurred vision, Chuck recognized the tall African American.

"Bennett."

"Ah, you remember me," Bennett said in a pleased voice. He squatted down, resting his forearms on his knees.

"What do you want?" Chuck fought to keep his eyes open and failed.

"What do I want?" Bennett asked. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed, and his arched brows came together, creating a menacing countenance. "What I want," he said sharply, "is for John Casey to pay." He stood back up and paced back and forth.

"The Ring released me. They offered me a position as a recruiter and trainer. My own training facility. My own team." He stopped pacing. "And in exchange, they wanted you." He resumed pacing. "Fools. I can create my own team without them. I was prepared to walk away, but then they told me who was still protecting you."

"Casey," Chuck said softly.

Bennett smiled and leaned over Chuck. "I told them I would capture you. They gave me all the information I needed to track you down. I know he will come for you. It's perfect." He stepped back a few feet and held up his phone, taking a picture of Chuck. "If you will excuse me, I have a call to make." He left the room.

Chuck struggled to free himself, and soon realized that his movements served only to tighten his bonds. _What a mess_, he thought. First he attacked Casey, and now he was being used as a pawn to lure Casey into a trap. _I'm useless_, he realized with a start. A degree from Stanford, two years of working with Casey and Sarah, and a new Intersect had done nothing for him. Oh, with the exception of making him a killing machine, apparently. Hell, he was little better than Vincent Smith. Actually, he wished he _was_ Vincent right about now; the immortal villain would probably have already freed himself and would be deciding whether he should broil or grill Bennett's kidneys.

Chuck broke off his repulsive train of thought and focused on Sarah. They shouldn't have made love, but at the time, he hadn't fully realized what the new Intersect had done to him. He wasn't Chuck anymore. He was the Intersect. Before, he was always able to separate himself from the Intersect and the intel it provided. But now, it controlled him. He almost killed Lizzie, who had already been incapacitated. Sarah was able to stop him at the last moment, but how long before the Intersect ignored even her pleas? What if he did more than break Casey's nose next time? Would he hurt his friends? Would he hurt Sarah?

He rubbed his watering eyes angrily against his arm again and let out a small yelp of frustration. Each blink of his eyes renewed the burning sensation. He forced himself to relax; he concentrated on his breathing. He thought about Sarah. She was going to be angry; she would try to convince him that together, they could figure out a way to loosen the Intersect's grasp on him. But that would take time, if it was even possible. And during that time, she might get hurt. He nodded his head slightly. There was only one option. He needed to distance himself from her, from his family, from his friends, everyone. But first, he had to help take care of Bennett. Somehow.

***

"You've got be kidding! Bennett is back?" Sarah exclaimed, looking at the photo that had been sent to Casey's phone.

"Yep." Casey took his phone back from Sarah.

"But if he has Chuck, why bother telling us? Why not turn him over to the Ring?"

"Because he has a score to settle. . . with me." Casey met her eyes directly.

Sarah nodded her head slowly. "I see. Then I'm glad for it, because otherwise Chuck would be en route to a holding facility. . . or worse."

Casey exhaled with relief and walked over to the window.

"He wants me to come alone. He will have the surrounding area monitored to ensure it."

"We work as a team," she replied firmly.

"I don't trust any of those imbeciles," he said, gesturing toward his apartment.

"I meant us, Casey. You and me and Chuck. We'll leave Carina with Devon and Ellie."

Casey thought for a moment. She was right—the three of them worked best as a team. Working with Sarah would greatly improve his chances of getting Chuck back unharmed. "Are you sure we can trust Carina?"

"Absolutely. She has her head in the right place. Good genes. The rest of them can stay put and provide backup surveillance for her."

Casey nodded his head. "Agreed."

***

Loud gunfire erupted from somewhere beyond the room and Chuck opened his eyes with a start. He blinked them hard several times; they watered less and his vision had cleared.

"It seems the cavalry has arrived."

Chuck jerked his head to the right; Bennett had entered the room. He wore the loose black clothing of a martial arts instructor. Chuck looked around. The room was large with a hardwood floor and metal rungs along the walls. A large mirror filled an entire wall. A single door stood open. He looked up at Bennett and saw the gun pointed at him.

"Easy now, Mr. Bartowski." Bennett spoke softly and kept his eyes trained on the doorway.

Chuck swallowed hard and followed Bennett's gaze to the doorway; the gunfire moved closer, and suddenly Casey stepped into the room, gun drawn and aimed directly at Bennett.

Bennett smiled and relaxed his posture, keeping his gun aimed at Chuck. "So good of you to join us, John."

Casey advanced toward Bennett. He held his gun with two hands and stopped just a few feet from Bennett. He flicked his eyes toward Chuck. "You agreed to release him."

Bennett raised his eyebrows. "And I do believe that you were supposed to come alone." He cocked his head slightly toward the doorway, through which the sounds of gunfire could still be heard.

Casey took a step back, extending his hands outward. "I'm alone now." Slowly, he bent his knees and placed his gun on the floor. He straightened and used his foot to slide it out through the door. He glanced again at Chuck, who watched the interaction silently.

Casey assumed a fighting stance.

"You never were a man of many words, John." Bennett walked over to the door, tossed his gun into the hall, and closed the door. He approached Casey, circling around him.

They glared at each other for a moment, and then Casey aimed a kick toward Bennett's knee; he pulled his leg back at the last moment and lunged forward with a left-handed chop toward Bennett's throat. Bennett anticipated Casey's feint and blocked the chop with his forearm.

The men exchanged blows and blocks for a few minutes. Bennett jumped back. "Do you know what I've been doing in prison, John?" he asked with a smile. "I've been dreaming of this day. I've been _training_ for it. My skills are better than ever before. I've taken my training _beyond_ the next level, John."

Casey yelled and ran at Bennett, lowering his head, which connected with Bennett's stomach. Bennett stumbled backward and Casey pushed forward, slamming Bennett against the mirrored wall. The glass shattered with the impact, sending a shower of dagger-shaped shards to the floor. Casey rolled to the floor and palmed one of the shards. As Casey stood up, Bennett grabbed Casey's head and raised his knee; he shoved Casey down and jerked his knee up simultaneously, connecting with Casey's chest. As Casey staggered back, Bennett jumped , spun in midair, and landed a double kick to the side of Casey's head. Casey fell and rolled to a stop near Chuck. He pressed the glass shard into Chuck's hand.

"Get the hell out of here," he whispered to Chuck quickly. Breathing heavily, he stood up and approached Bennett.

Chuck immediately set to work on the cloth that bound his hands to the bar. He sawed at the cloth, enduring the pain as the glass also cut into his palm. Casey was fading fast. The gunfire had stopped; he had no idea if Sarah was out there or not. Did she have the upper hand? Or did Bennett's men hurt her? Or maybe the other team members were here as well, fighting side by side. He freed his hands and cut the elastic band around his ankles. He stood up in time to see Bennett land a chop directly onto Casey's broken nose. Casey put his hand to his face and stumbled in a daze.

Bennett turned toward Chuck and smiled. "I'll tell you what, John. I'll keep my end of our agreement. Mr. Bartowski is free to go."

Chuck walked over to Casey, who was bent over with his hands on his knees. "Casey," he began.

"Just go, Chuck," Casey said harshly. "For once, do what you are supposed to do."

Chuck looked at Bennett, who had begun to breathe more heavily. His skin was slick with perspiration, and his smile faded away. Bennett narrowed his eyes. "Do as he says, Mr. Bartowski. John and I have yet to settle our unfinished business."

Casey straightened as Bennett resumed a fighting stance.

Chuck looked at Bennett, and then he looked at Casey. _I can do this_, he thought_. I know kung fu_. He turned and pushed Casey gently toward the wall and walked up to Bennett.

"Chuck!" Casey yelled.

Chuck raised one hand to silence him. "This _is_ what I'm supposed to do, Casey." He spread his feet apart and raised his arms; the familiar stance came to mind easily.

Bennett chuckled. "This will be fun," he said, aiming a swift kick at Chuck's chest. Chuck grabbed Bennett's foot and twisted it sharply; Bennett had to flip his body over to avoid having his foot broken and he fell to the floor. Bennett's eyes widened; he jumped back to his feet, ran toward Chuck and then leaped, lifting and spreading his legs in a wide V while his torso remained upright. He brought his feet together in a powerful pincer movement, catching Chuck's head between them. Then he spun his own body.

Chuck felt the crushing blow to his head just as his feet left the ground; he was jerked neatly upside down and he crashed to the floor. He heard Casey yell, and then Casey was beside him, calling his name. Up to this point, he had been fighting with his own knowledge of kung fu—knowledge that he had somehow retained from his prior Intersect experience. At first, he had been pleased to be fighting on his own, but now, as the familiar cold tingle intensified at the base of his brain, he felt an immense relief. Let the Intersect crush Bennett.

Chuck shoved Casey away and stood up. He spun rapidly around Bennett and landed a vicious kick to the back of Bennett's knee. As Bennett started to fall, Chuck grabbed his ear and yanked him back to his feet. Bennett let out a painful cry, grabbed Chuck's hand and bent the wrist backward. Chuck jerked away and stood near the wall. Bennett lunged forward, and Chuck turned to face the wall; he grabbed hold of the metal bar and lifted his body high into the air. His pulled his knees to his chest and then powered his legs outward, connecting with Bennett's chest.

Bennett flew back across the room and slammed against the opposite wall. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and his earlobe had been partially torn. He shook his head, set his jaw, and advanced into the center of the room. Chuck met him there, and the men exchanged blow for blow in a flurry of motion. They moved so fast that Casey couldn't discern which man was winning.

As the Intersect guided his movements, Chuck realized that the Intersect's kung fu program must have been based on Bennett's curriculum. Bennett and the Intersect were almost an even match; however, Bennett had since added to his own training, and increasingly, Bennett was landing more blows on Chuck than not. Chuck felt himself tiring. He performed a backward handspring, distancing himself from Bennett's onslaught. He spoke softly. "Unleash the Casey."

Bennett, who had taken Chuck's retreat as a sign of sudden weakness, had been advancing quickly toward Chuck. He stopped as Chuck spoke, and his brows furrowed with puzzlement. Suddenly, he found himself being slammed to the floor by Casey, who had launched himself from the side. Chuck rushed forward and landed three kicks to Bennett's head before Bennett was able to extricate himself out from under Casey.

Bennett stood and delivered a series of high-powered punches to Chuck's face and chest. Casey, who remained on the floor, rolled onto his side and then kicked his leg out with all his remaining strength, sweeping Bennett's right leg out from under him. As Bennett fell forward, Chuck landed a forceful chop across his throat. Bennett landed on his back, gasping for breath. Chuck kneeled over his body and placed his hand on Bennett's throat and squeezed.

As Bennett struggled for breath, Chuck blinked and felt the Intersect withdrawing. When Bennett lost consciousness, Chuck released his hold.

"You didn't kill him?" asked Casey, wiping away the fresh blood from under his nose with his hand.

"No."

Both men were silent for a moment, catching their breath.

Then Casey nodded. "Good."

"Yeah," Chuck said.

"Unleash the Casey." Casey snickered.

Chuck shrugged his shoulders and gave Casey an embarrassed smile. "Well, you swept the leg."

The door suddenly burst open and Sarah entered with a gun in each hand. She stopped short and looked at her partners, bloodied but alive. Casey stood and helped Chuck to his feet. Chuck walked over to Sarah, took her hand, and pulled her close into a warm embrace.

Casey placed zip ties on Bennett's hands and feet. He called Beckman for a cleaning crew. Then he stepped into the hall. Eight men and two women dressed in white kung fu robes were lined up with their hands secured behind their backs. Some of them had bullet wounds. Casey felt an unexpected surge of pride—pride for his team. Team Bartowski.

In the studio, Chuck and Sarah were sitting side by side against a wall, keeping tabs on Bennett while they waited for the cleaners to arrive. Sarah examined his hand, pressing a bit of cloth into his palm to stop the bleeding.

"Sarah," Chuck said, looking into her eyes. "Earlier today, I was thinking that maybe we shouldn't be so close. Because the Intersect seemed to be taking control of me. What if I had punched you instead of Casey? I would never forgive myself."

"Chuck," began Sarah.

He lifted his good hand to her face and brushed some stray hairs back from her face. "Let me speak."

She nodded at him.

"With Lizzie, I know that I would have killed her if you hadn't said anything. But it was different with Bennett. I'm not sure what happened, exactly. I just know that I was done killing, and somehow, the Intersect seemed to sense that." He shook his head. "It's all so new, and it doesn't make sense."

"No," said Sarah. "Maybe it does make sense. You're learning how to control the Intersect."

"But I'm not learning fast enough."

"That's why we have to stay close. All three of us. Casey and I will help you. We'll help each other." She leaned toward him and kissed him softly on the cheek. "We're a team, Chuck. We have to stick together."

Chuck nodded and rested his head back against the wall. Maybe Sarah was right. They should stick together. For now.

Casey entered the room. "We've got a problem."

"What now?" asked Sarah.

"Forrest called. She went to Castle to check on the prisoners being held there. Three of our living prisoners are now dead, and our dead prisoner is apparently alive again."

"What are you talking about?" asked Sarah incredulously.

"Rhyerson, Wang, and Paine are dead. Vincent Smith is gone. His body bag was left open on the cell floor."

"How do you know Vincent is still alive?" asked Chuck.

"The Castle monitors and alarms had been deactivated, but Smith was caught on tape emerging from a manhole cover three blocks down. He followed the same tunnel Roan used to evacuate the Buy Morons."

Chuck eyes widened. "Why doesn't this guy ever die? And what about Lizzie?"

"She had been taken to a different holding facility, the one where Colt and his men are being held. And there's something else." He hesitated.

"Yes?" prompted Chuck.

"Rhyerson's tongue was torn off." Casey took a deep breath. "And it's missing."


	12. The Empire Strikes Back

_**Disclaimer: **__We don't own Chuck, but we're getting pretty close to owning Vincent._

**CHUCK VERSUS THE TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE,**

**NO GOOD, REALLY BAD DAY**

**Chapter 12**

**by Altonish**

**The Empire Strikes Back**

"That's impossible!" Sarah growled.

"I agree," Agent Forrest supplied. "But despite that, not only did he come back to life and kill three other prisoners, he somehow broke out of the holding facility.

"Why would he take Ned's tongue?" Chuck asked. "That's just gross."

"He probably just wanted to shut the little sleazebag up. That guy would not stop talking and he shoots people in the toe."

"Casey, can you just get over that already?" Sarah pleaded.

"Let me shoot off one of your toes and we'll see how quickly _you_ get over it."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "It might be worth it, just to hear you stop moaning about it," she muttered. Chuck was the only one close enough to hear it. He shot her a questioning glance. Her mood had been off, ever since they'd left Ty Bennett's. "I need to go talk to Carina," she announced.

"I'll go with you," Chuck offered.

"No, you stay with Casey," Sarah replied firmly.

"But—" Chuck started to object.

"Chuck, please, just stay with Casey, I'll be back in a couple of hours."

"Need I remind you that we have a consulate dinner to attend tomorrow evening?" Cole Barker asked. "We need to cement our cover details. I want my clothing before hand this time, the last CIA issued disguise was not acceptable."

"There's plenty of time for all that tomorrow," Sarah sighed. "The rest of you see if you can get a lead on Vincent, we can't have him roaming around Los Angeles, he's far too dangerous and he keeps popping up at the worst times."

"Who's even left on the escapees list?" Chuck asked. "Shouldn't we have some sort of big board where we can cross them all off?"

"I'm not sure," Casey shrugged. "Farrokh Bulsara is still out there."

"The lead singer of Queen?" Cole asked. "I thought he was dead."

"I don't think he was a drag queen, he looked straight enough to me," Casey replied. He clearly missed the reference to Farrokh's namesake. "The bastard tried to explode a nuclear bomb in California."

"I hear that's all the rage now," Chuck quipped. Then he noticed that Sarah had crept away and was walking out. "Hey, Sarah, wait up." He jogged over to catch up with her. "Are you okay?" Chuck asked.

"I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," Chuck shrugged. "You just seemed a little off."

"It's nothing, just a long couple of days. Are you okay? I know things have been hard for you lately, well, even harder than normal." Chuck didn't answer he studied Sarah's shoes for a minute before she continued. "I'm going have Carina stay with Devon and Ellie for a while."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Chuck asked.

Sarah nodded. "I know she's flighty and a bit of a game player, but of everybody here besides you and Casey I trust her the most. Ellie and Devon need to be left out of this. The way that mummy Vincent keeps tracking you down…"

Chuck nodded. "Good idea." He hesitated for a moment and then reached his hand out and put it on her forearm. He squeezed gently, momentarily afraid the Intersect might take over and crush her with the Vulcan Death Grip. "Thanks."

For some reason Sarah blushed before she turned around and left the Castle. Chuck walked downstairs where the discussion of escaped bad guys was still going on.

"There's Peyman Alahi."

"Who's that?" Forrest asked.

"Oh, just some douche bag money launderer. I doubt he'd come after Chuck himself."

"You guys talking about the Wookie?" Chuck asked.

"The Wookie?" Agent Forrest questioned.

"Oh, he's a …got a fur sweater," Chuck rotated his open palm over his shirt, but Agent Forrest just looked more confused.

"He's hairy?" Chuck tried. "You know like a sasquatch?"

"Yeti's aren't real," Agent Forrest objected.

"Well, yeah, but you get my meaning…"

"How can he be like something that doesn't exist?" Agent Forrest pressed. Chuck looked to Casey for help, but the big man just grinned and shrugged.

"He has a lot of body hair." Chuck said slowly and loudly.

"Oh, why didn't you just say so?" Agent Forrest shook her head as if Chuck was an idiot and turned back to Casey.

"Anyone else?"

"Yeah the two most dangerous people, Tommy and Dr. Jonas Zarnow," Casey replied. "I'm kind of surprised we haven't heard from Tommy, he's not the slow play type. Dr. Zarnow, if he's in the game, is a much more dangerous threat."

"How's that?" Cole asked.

"He's well connected and he knows things he shouldn't know," Casey said cryptically.

"What?" Agent Forrest asked.

"Just things," Casey replied.

Agent Forrest looked around at the three of them. "Fine," she grumbled.

Cole's cell phone started ringing and he checked the display. "Excuse me," he said. "It's the home office, I'll have to take this." He walked into the back of the Castle and took the call.

"Look, Vincent has taken significant damage he's going to need medical treatment. I say we setup a search area here and here," Casey pointed the map. "Agent Forrest, when he gets off the phone take Agent Barker with you and canvas this half. Chuck and I will take the other. If he's this banged up Vincent shouldn't be too hard to find."

***

Sarah knocked on the door softly and it was opened a moment later by a familiar face. "Hi," Sarah said. Carina closed the door to remove the security chain and Sarah was relieved to see her tuck her weapon back into her pants and pull her top down over it. She was finally being careful.

Devon walked out of the back a moment later to see who had arrived. "Sarah," Devon greeted her. He had more tension in his jaw then Sarah had ever seen. Cleary he was very worried.

"How is she?" Sarah asked.

"She's been better," Devon replied flatly.

Sarah nodded solemnly. "Can I see her?"

"She's sedated at the moment. She keeps having panic attacks."

"She remembers what happened?" Sarah asked in horror.

"No, she thinks they're nightmares. It's just bits and pieces, but the bruises and scratches on her body… She isn't stupid," Devon replied sourly. "I think you should tell her."

"We can't."

"I don't think we have a choice."

"Devon," Sarah took a deep breath. "The more people that know, the greater the risk, I know you aren't as safe as you'd like right now, but trust me, telling her will only increase your problems."

"Sarah," Devon whispered fiercely. "What are we supposed to do! She's been drugged twice in two days she was roughed up, people keep lying to her, this isn't right!"

Sarah walked over to Devon and put a hand on his shoulder. "I know. We're going to fix this. I promise you. We will fix this and until we do, Carina is going to stay with you guys."

"I don't even know this girl," Devon objected.

"You'll be safe with her," Sarah insisted. "Trust me…she's family."

Devon gave her a curious look and pointed at her. "She's…"

Sarah nodded. "Don't tell Chuck though, okay? He doesn't know yet."

Devon frowned at her. "You shouldn't be keeping secrets like that from him."

Sarah sighed. "I know. It's c—"

"Complicated?" Devon quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Well, yes, but it's also classified." Sarah struggled for a moment against her feelings of discomfort and then threw herself at Devon's chest, wrapping him in a tight hug. The first one she'd initiated with anyone but Chuck since Bryce. She gave him a tight squeeze. "We're going to get through this, I promise." Devon nodded. He seemed touched by the gesture. "I need to talk to Carina for a minute."

"Take care of yourself," Devon advised. "And take care of Chuck."

"I will," Sarah promised. It was a promise she very much intended to keep. Sarah returned to the couch where Carina was reading a magazine. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"It's a free country." Carina shrugged.

"Thanks," Sarah replied derisively. "Come on, let's talk in Chuck's room."

Carina looked less than enthused about the prospect but she tossed her magazine on the table and followed after Sarah. "So this is where all the magic happens, huh?" Carina asked. "I know you had humble beginnings, but I was pretty sure you would do better than this."

Sarah glared at the redhead. "It's charming," she growled.

Carina laughed. "Really? You've talked yourself into charming? I was thinking idiotic or infantile or"

"Stop it!" Sarah ordered. "Chuck is a beautiful person. He has quirks. They are endearing. If you keep talking I will kick your ass, and you and I both know how that eventually turns out."

Carina raised an eyebrow. "The geek's really under your skin."

"It's more than that," Sarah admitted, causing Carina's other eyebrow to join the first, high up on her forehead. "This," Sarah waved her hand around, "is home. This is my family."

"Wait… you're staying?" Carina asked in disbelief. "Here in snoresville?"

Sarah nodded. "Yes, I've made a life here…and I want more."

Carina laughed derisively. "God, what happened to you, you used to be—"

"I've changed," Sarah interrupted. "I didn't even know I was missing anything until I met Chuck. He's amazing and I need this… I need all of them protected." Carina pulled a face, but Sarah carried on. "I need you to protect my family."

"Sarah, I—"

"There's more," Sarah interrupted.

"More?" Carina asked in disbelief.

"I know you and I have had a rough history, but I'd like to try again."

"Try what?" Carina was gobsmacked.

"Being family."

"Look, I don't know what this place has done to you, but have you forgotten about the time in San Pedro—"

"No," Sarah shook her head. "But I've forgiven. Chuck does that to you."

"Does what?"

"Teaches you to accept the little things you can't change about people. You have no idea what it's like here. I'm…accepted."

"Only because they don't have any idea who you are!" Carina objected.

"Chuck knows and he accepts me. I can't blow this. I'll never get a chance like this again. I need you to watch over them while we sort the rest of this mess out. Can you do that for me?"

"Sarah…" Carina seemed to have run out of words.

"I really want us to try," Sarah insisted. She walked over and dolled out her second hug of the afternoon. Hugging Carina was like hugging a cactus, prickly and distinctly uncomfortable.

"I have no idea what to say," Carina finally stated.

"Just say you'll try."

"We're both terrible at this, you know that right?" Carina asked.

Sarah shrugged. "Chuck will teach me and I'll teach you. If you'll let me."

"Fine," Carina sighed. "I think this is your worst idea ever and that's saying something, because you've had some truly terrible ideas, but fine. I'll try."

***

Sarah adjusted the dress again. The stupid thing didn't fit right. She was a size four. She didn't know what this dress was, but it wasn't a size four. Stupid CIA fitter was going to have her looking like she bought her dress off the rack. It was not going to be good for their cover. Sarah checked her wig and made sure none of her real hair was showing. She sighed "Ready?" she asked Agent Forrest.

"Affirmative," Agent Forrest replied.

They walked across the hall and Sarah knocked on the door, but before there was an answer one of the doors down the hall opened. "Wow, my dear, you look…"

"Give it a rest, please?" Sarah asked without looking at Cole.

"Well, that's just impolite. You know you were much friendlier the last time I was in town. Besides I could have been talking to your companion."

"Protocol dictates a limitation of fraternization between agents," Agent Forrest replied.

"Well aren't you two a good time."

The door opened and Sarah pushed her way inside to escape the hallway. "Have you found Vincent?" Sarah asked.

Casey shook his head. "No, there's no sign of him. He's most likely seeking medical care."

"How can he possibly be alive?" Agent Forrest asked.

"That's unclear," Casey shook his head. "I've personally shot him, from close range and verified that he was dead. Yet, we've seen him survive attempt after attempt to kill him."

"You don't think maybe he's a Terminator?" Chuck asked.

"A what?" Casey barked.

"A cyborg. A robot covered by human flesh. It would explain why you never find a pulse," Chuck reasoned.

Sarah reached out to Chuck and rubbed his arm. "That was a movie sweetie, they can't really build killer robots that look like humans."

Chuck leaned away from her until she could no longer reach him without stepping forward.. "Well he'd be from the _future, obviously._"

"You believe this man is a time traveler?" Cole asked. Everyone turned and looked a Chuck.

"Of course when you say it, it makes me sound crazy. I'm just saying," Chuck shrugged.

"Regardless of the reason he's still alive. There's been no sighting's of a six foot mummy wandering around Los Angeles. We don't have any leads, so keep your eyes open. We've stopped him before, we can stop him again."

"Shall we start the mission plan briefing?" Agent Forrest asked.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "We've been over it, I think everyone knows what they are supposed to be doing."

"It's standard protocol, to cover mission objectives before the start of the mission," Agent Forrest objected.

"She's right," Casey nodded. "The primary mission tonight is to find out who's selling the plutonium. We remain very interested in who's buying, but we need the source to cut off the supply. We don't make any moves until we identify the seller."

"First we have to determine the site of the auction," Agent Forrest reminded them.

"We know," Sarah cut in. "We all know what we are supposed to be doing."

"Agent Barker?" Casey asked.

"Mingle with the crowd, be my normal charming self. Stay near team members Forrest and Walker."

"Why isn't Agent Montgomery here?" Forrest asked.

Casey grunted. "He's made his own arrangement for the consulate dinner. Apparently he felt our cover insertion was insufficient. He'll be there, but won't be tied in directly with the team."

"That seems very unorthodox," Agent Forrest objected. "Standard protocol—"

"Montgomery talked to Beckman, she signed off on it," Casey interrupted.

"Chuck and I will be in the surveillance vehicle. Each of you is equipped with a camera. You'll be our eyes and ears in the building…"

Sarah tuned Casey out. They'd been over this and over this. Find the buyer, secure the plutonium, and quietly capture any potential ring members. Do NOT create an international incident by getting caught. Her eyes strayed to Chuck again. He'd made himself clear at the speedway. Chuck couldn't control the actions of the Intersect. It wasn't just a part of him, it acted through him… and it made him do things…things Chuck should never have to do. The damn program shouldn't have made its way into Chuck's head. Chuck and the Intersect simply weren't compatible anymore.

"We're rolling," Casey announced, interrupting her thoughts..

Sarah tried to catch Chuck's eyes as the entourage filled the hallway, but he was clearly avoiding looking at her. He was being distant and Sarah hated it. In all the time she'd known him getting space from Chuck had been a constant fight, but when they'd moved into this hotel, he'd asked to stay with Casey. Neither Casey or Sarah had been in favor of this plan, but there was something in Chuck's eyes that told Sarah not to push. She knew what it was too, if she'd pushed he might just tell her what he was thinking. Sarah knew what he was thinking and she didn't want to hear it.

When would he learn just how little her life meant without him? She'd had nothing before this mission. She'd been an empty vessel. Sarah wasn't returning to the days of not caring about anything. You can't expose a seedling to sunlight and expect it not to reach for the sky. Sarah had dreams now. She wasn't letting them go because some little part of Chuck was filled with evil. If he could eliminate the inky blackness that had once flourished inside her, she could remove one little streak of grey from Chuck. Sarah never failed on a mission. The question was how? This was Chuck's specialty, obviously she still needed lessons.

Sarah watched Chuck hop into the surveillance van. She wasn't even riding to the consulate with him. If she'd just sucked it up and paid attention to the mission she'd be sitting next to Chuck now, instead of sandwiched between Barker and Forrest, what a screwed up carful this was.

"Are you all right?" Cole asked.

"Fine," Sarah replied tartly.

"You seem distracted," Cole explained.

"Do I?" Sarah replied. "I'm sure it's just that your cologne is so awful that it's difficult to concentrate."

Cole sighed. "Look, explain to me how I became the bad guy here? I asked Chuck if you were in the open before I ever tried to get your attention. He said it was free and clear. Now you're acting like my thinking you're a sweet girl who's easy on the eyes was some sort of crime."

"You know how I feel about Chuck," Sarah replied.

"It's just a little flirting," Cole replied defensively.

"Well you can stop.".

Cole gave an irritated grunt. He straightened his suit jacket and sat stiffly in his seat, but he didn't speak again.

***

"Can you believe it?" Morgan exclaimed. "Look at that beach its amazing!"

Anna smirked. "Wait until you see my new bikini."

"Better than the one from the party?" Morgan boggled. Anna giggled and wiggled her eyebrows at him. "Oh, baby, I love you," Morgan sighed.

Anna squealed. "I love you too!"

"You'll see everything's going to be great here. I start at the culinary academy in a couple of days. We can totally put Emmett's crap from the Buy More behind us."

Anna and Morgan shared a slow, sloppy kiss just as the plane was touching down. Their seat partner for the last five hours, gave another audible indication of his disgust and when the plane rolled up to the gate, the gentleman bolted for the runway door.

"Guess he can't stand seeing two people in love," Morgan shook his head.

"That's _his_ problem." Anna turned Morgan's head back towards her and applied another mind blowing kiss to the little man.

"Hubba Hubba," Morgan gasped.

"Let's go get our bags, lover. It's time for us to start our new life together." Morgan's knees weakened for a second from the look Anna gave him. He quickly stood back up and started walking hurriedly up the aisle of the now deserted plane. There was only a slight hitch in his step as he took Anna's hand and set foot on the airport concrete of Hawaii for the very first time.

***

Chuck watched Sarah get out of the Limo from the roof cam of the van across the street. She looked lovely and he probably should have said something. He'd spent the last couple of days trying to get some separation between them. This new Intersect was dangerous. Sitting here in the van listening to Casey's nose whistle was proof enough of that.

He hated that out of control feeling he got whenever the Intersect started feeding him information. It wasn't just that it suddenly taught him to throw a knife or shoot a gun It was that once he knew, he had some sort of compulsion to use that information. Chuck would never snap the neck of a downed opponent. Chuck would probably not have thrown a knife into La Ciudad. Not that Chuck exactly regretted killing La Ciudad…she was going to kill Sarah. It's just …"Chuck?" Sarah voice crackled in his head phones.

"I'm here," Chuck replied.

"Good," came Sarah's voice. "Do you have my cam?"

Chuck checked the monitor. "Uh yeah, it's coming through very clear. Wait a second where is that camera mounted?"

"If you wait until after the party, I'll show you," Sarah offered.

"It's mounted in your…" Chuck trailed off.

"It's on my necklace," Sarah snickered. "My necklace is intentionally low, because most men make more eye contact with my bust than my face."

"That's not right!" Chuck objected.

Sarah giggled. "Chuck, don't ever change." Just like that their easy banter was gone again. Chuck was changing. A couple of weeks ago he'd never killed a man. It started with the Morgan and now…now he seemed to be able to kill anyone. Chuck sighed. "Chuck, will you isolate my mic?" Sarah asked.

"For Christ's sake Walker, we're on a mission here," Casey groaned.

"Just give us a minute!" Walker replied angrily.

"You're supposed to be looking for hostiles not whispering sweet nothings to each other," Casey snarled.

"Casey," Sarah grunted warningly.

"Fine, you've got two minutes." Casey flicked the switches on the van's audio, so that Chuck and Sarah could only hear each other over the radio.

Chuck could tell Sarah had stepped away from the rest of the team, she was tucked away next to the stairwell, hidden behind a large fichus. All the camera was picking up were the leaves. "Chuck," Sarah whispered. "I know you're trying to protect me, by pushing me away."

Chuck's head slumped against his chest. "That's not it, I just—" Chuck started.

"Don't lie to me," Sarah interrupted. "Ever since Lizzie you've been distant."

"I just don't want anyone else getting hurt, that's all," Chuck admitted. "Look what I did to Casey." Casey, who was sitting next to Chuck in the Van, whipped his head towards Chuck.

"I don't need protection from you," Sarah replied. "We're going to figure this out and we'll fix it, just don't worry, Chuck."

"What if we can't? What if I'm like this forever?"

"Then you'll just have to stick close by me forever." There was teasing in Sarah voice, but there was also something more.

"Really?" Chuck asked. His gaze tracked back to the picture of Sarah's necklace cam. Chuck wished that it was pointed at her face, but all he could see was a little bit of one of the tables beyond the fichus.

"Yeah, really." Sarah affirmed.

The image from the autofocus camera in Sarah's necklace focused on the table beyond the fichus and suddenly a familiar face came into view. "Sarah! That's Ben Lo Pan!"

"Where?" Sarah asked.

Chuck flipped the mic back to the open frequency and replied. "Right on the other side of that plant, your breasts are pointed right at him!"

"Affirmative, positive ID on Ben Lo Pan," Casey acknowledged.

"Do we think he's the buyer?" Sarah asked.

"Possibly, it's too early for the auction, we need to find where the auction for the plutonium is going down."

"Sarah, can't go out there, if he recognizes her, this whole mission is blown," Chuck announced.

"Chuck, I'm in disguise," Sarah replied indignantly.

"Bartowski's right, it's not worth the risk. Take the stairway to the second floor, see if you can find out where the auction's going to happen."

"Casey, I'm perfectly capable of maintaining a disguise."

"Forrest and I will take the main floor," Cole interjected. "We'll catch up with you in a bit, Walker."

"Fine," Sarah grumbled. Chuck saw the stairs come into view as she started climbing and he let out a sigh of relief.

"See anybody else you recognize?" Casey asked.

Chuck turned his eyes back to the other monitors. They didn't see anything out of the ordinary until: "Hey, Barker, Agent Montgomery is on your left."

"Where did he come up with that bird?" Cole asked.

Sure enough a blonde bombshell that couldn't have been more than twenty was hanging on his arm. "No, idea," Chuck replied. "No wonder he said he'd make his own arrangements for the mission."

"If that's a civilian, I'm reporting him to the director," Agent Forrest interjected.

"Good luck with that," Casey muttered.

Something caught Chuck's eye and he zoned out for a moment as he flashed. "Uh…Agent Forrest, there's an ex British special forces officer to your left. He's a person of interest in an arms sale to a Sudanese warlord. His name is Trevor Walters, he might be a possible buyer."

"Noted," Agent Forrest replied. "Should we take him down?"

"Keep an eye on him, but we don't do anything until the auction," Casey ordered. "Barker, where are you?"

"I'm slipping behind the wall next to the head table."

"Your camera is down."

"Noted, I'll let you know if I see anything."

"You'll need to return to the Van, we're blind out here without the cameras."

"I'll be there in a minute," Barker replied. "It looks like this might be the site of the auction."

"This area is closed to party guests." Chuck heard the statement through Sarah's mic.

Sarah spun around and her camera focused on a smarmy and very familiar face. "That's Lon Kirk!" Chuck hissed.

"Oh, sorry," Sarah replied meekly. "I was looking for a restroom. "You wouldn't believe how many doors this place has…"

"Yes, it can be…" Lon trailed off. "You know I never forget a face. It's one of the things that made me successful in the business world. But I never thought I'd be seeing yours again. The camera jostled for a second and Chuck heard them struggling.

"Sarah!" he cried. When the camera came back into focus Lon Kirk was pointing a pistol directly at Sarah's chest.

"It seems we have a problem," Lon Kirk said appraisingly. "You have a nasty habit of turning up in my life at exactly the wrong time.

"I was hoping I'd run into you again," Sarah said sweetly. "We left things kind of unfinished before," Sarah said in her most seductive tone. It sent a shiver down Chuck's spine.

"Save it," Lon said flatly. "You've cost me plenty. I know why you're here and I think I'd better turn you over to our hosts. The Chinese government is going to be very upset to have their consulate penetrated by the CIA." Lon jabbed the gun at her. "Let's go."

"Crap!" Casey barked. "Chuck no!"

But Chuck was already out of his seat and headed for the back door of the van. "Agent Forrest, Walker's been intercepted. Take Montgomery, you have to get to Kirk before he reaches the ambassador or things are really going to get ugly." Chuck hopped out of the van and started running around the back of the consulate. Damn it, Bartowski, get back here!" Casey yelled after him.

Chuck looked back over his shoulder. "He's got Sarah, I'm going after her."

"Like hell you are," Casey hopped out of the van and started running after him. Chuck sprinted away from the giant man, but when he glanced back, Casey was closing fast. He slowed down as the Intersect started downloading information into his brain. When Chuck had his senses back a few seconds later he was still running, however the crunch of Casey's feet on the gravel were right behind him. Chuck stopped short and turned around. A look of shock appeared on Casey's face as he bore down on Chuck. Chuck dipped to one knee and planted the other in front of Casey. As Casey tripped over him, Chuck grabbed Casey's arm and flipped the larger man over onto his butt. Chuck dropped onto Casey's back and wrapped his arms around the man's head in a vicious choke.

"Damn it, Bartowski let me go," Casey sputtered as he flailed his arms helplessly trying to grab at Chuck.

"I'm going after Sarah," Chuck insisted. Casey gurgled as his brain ran out of blood. Chuck felt the larger man go limp. After a moment he released Casey whose body slumped to the ground. "I'm sorry, Casey. I can't take chances with Sarah's life. I'll apologize better when you wake up, I promise." Chuck jogged off towards the consulate's kitchen door. His arms were burning from the strain of applying the choke. He hoped he still had strength enough to fight, once he found Sarah. Chuck stepped into the kitchen, glancing around. An army of Chinese men and women were working furiously to prepare the evening's meal. They seemed oblivious to Chuck's presence.

Chuck worked his way past the workstation and stepped into a darkened hallway. He felt a crushing blow to the back of his head as the lights in his eyes went out.

***

"There it is! Finally!" Morgan walked to the conveyor belt and attempted to lift Anna's massive suitcase. It didn't budge on the first attempt. It also didn't move on Morgan's second attempt to heft it off.

"I can get it," Anna offered.

"No, it's okay, I've got it." Morgan hopped up on the conveyor belt and lifted the bag upright on to its wheels. He extended the handle and then rolled it off with a loud thump. He was still holding onto the handle when the bag hit the floor and tipped the other direction. "Whoa!" Morgan cried as the momentum flung him off the conveyor belt and onto the floor.

"There you go, honey. No problem." Morgan stuck out his chest and he stood up and dusted himself off.

Anna threw her arms around him. "Thank you, sweetie!"

"Should we get a cab?" Morgan asked.

Anna nodded and grabbed the handle of her bag and rolled it out towards ground transportation. Morgan followed her but stopped as he saw a guy holding a sign that said: "GRIMES"

"Anna, check it out! They sent a car for us."

"Who?" Anna came back to him and then saw the man holding the sign.

"I don't know…the culinary academy, I guess?"

"They send cars for all the students?" Anna asked. "That doesn't seem right."

"Come on, how many Grimes, could there be flying to Honolulu right now?"

Morgan walked up to the exceedingly large driver. "I'm Morgan Grimes."

"Aloha, Mr. Grimes, welcome to Hawaii."

"Thanks!"

"Let me get your bags for you," the man offered.

He tucked Morgan's suitcase under his arm and then lifted Anna's second suitcase in the same hand and hefted Anna's giant suitcase in his other hand. The man turned and started walking away like the bags weighed nothing at all.

"This is so cool!" Morgan turned to Anna with a grin.

They linked hands and followed the driver out to a town car. The man loaded their luggage in the trunk and then held the door open for them. "Make yourself comfortable, there are refreshments in the back," the man offered. Morgan and Anna cuddled up in the back seat and settled in as they left the airport. The car got on the freeway and the two of them gawked out the windows as the amazing mountain views flew by.

"This place is so amazing. I think this is the best decision I've ever made, baby." Morgan crowed happily. "And it's all because of you."

"No Morgan, it's all because of you."

Morgan put his arm around Anna and she snuggled her head onto his shoulder. Together they watched the amazing scenery as they left the city.

***

Chuck woke and tried to sit up, but he couldn't. His wrists were shackled to his ankles and he was hunched over the in the front seat of what appeared to be a very expensive sports car. Chuck looked at the driver? "Cole?"

"Ah, Chuck, you're awake."

"What the hell happened?"

"Ah…well, that's a bit difficult to explain."

"Why?"

"Well you see, I knocked you out and loaded you into the car. Now we're making our way to San Diego."

Chuck looked down and realized that his watch was gone. "Why are we going to San Diego?"

"We have a boat to catch," Barker replied.

"Where are we going?"

"We're meeting up with the HMS Torbay which will be giving you a nice slow ride to your new home."

"What?" Chuck squawked. "Cole, what's going on, why are doing this?"

Cole sighed. "Well you see, Chuck, you are a very valuable piece of intelligence, far too valuable to risk falling into enemy hands."

"Seems it's too late for that," Chuck spat bitterly.

"I'm not your enemy, Chuck. M, my boss, is concerned that the American intelligence community isn't taking your safeguarding seriously. So the British government has taken it upon themselves to make sure you're protected. You should feel honored. You'll have the best intelligence community in the world looking after you."

"Bite me," Chuck muttered.

Cole sighed. "I am sorry about this, you know. I advised M against this course of action, but the situation…well you…you're just too volatile. You don't even carry a gun. One agent working alone was able to take you. If anything should prove how vulnerable you really were, that should do it. You'll be safe now."

"Great, stuck in a prison cell for the rest of my life. Thanks a lot Cole," Chuck replied bitterly. "Thanks so very friggin' much."

"It won't be that bad. If you cooperate, they'll probably give you a nice home in the country. You'll see, this will be for the better."

"What about my family Cole, what about them?"

"They're safer without you."

"Bastard. You know that Sarah's going to kill you, right?"

Cole laughed. "Don't worry Chuck. I left evidence that the two of us had been captured by the Ring. Once I load you on to the sub, I'll go back and explain that I escaped. I managed to free you as well, but you were killed in our escape attempt. I'm sure Sarah will need someone to console her."

"YOU BASTARD, YOU STAY AWAY FROM HER!" Chuck shouted.

Cole just laughed softly. Chuck could feel that they were slowing down. He couldn't see out of the windshield the way he was shackled but there were more headlights here. Suddenly the car was rammed from behind causing Chuck's head to slam into the glove box.

"Shite," Cole barked. "There's no way they found us."

"Guess you aren't as good as you always say you are," Chuck muttered. "The car slammed into them again as they were making a turn. The car started to spin out, but Cole managed to regain control. He changed gears and the car, shot forward pushing Chuck back into his seat again. He tried to pull his feet up so he could lift his head enough to see out the windshield.

"I'd just stay down if I were you," Cole warned.

They were passing street lights now, Chuck could see the light coming in a steady rhythm of flashes. By the rate at which they passed the streetlights and the roar of the engine, he knew they had to be going very fast. He wiggled over and towards the center console and then used every ounce of force he could to throw his elbow into the gearshift. The transmission ground in protest, but it worked, the car did pop out of gear. The engine gunned threateningly.

"Damn it, Chuck, are you trying to get us both killed?" Cole shouted. He slammed the car back into gear, but the hesitation had been enough for the car that was chasing them to catch up. It slammed into them again. This time the car spun around, they made a full 180 degree rotation, but as they came around forward again the car started rotating on its side. There was a horrible feeling Chuck's stomach dropped out from underneath him and he realized they'd gone airborne. An instant later there was a horrible crunch of twisted metal careening off the pavement. Chuck smacked against the roof as the car flipped over and then slapped painfully into the seat as it turned again. He finally ended up sitting right side up on the roof of an upside down car the engine choking and sputtering until it died.

Silence. Chuck didn't know if it went on for minutes or hours, but there was nothing but silence after the car engine died. Chuck was sure there must be noise but he couldn't hear anything. His ankles and wrists were still bound and he had a horrible pain in his arm. Chuck chanced a glance behind him, Cole's broken and bleeding body was twisted at horrible angles, but he seemed to be breathing. "What do I do know?" Chuck muttered. Suddenly the Intersect was no help at all. He was sitting in an upside down car, who knew where. "Sarah!" Chuck shouted hopefully.

It was a stupid thought. Sarah would have never allowed anyone that was chasing them to crash the car Chuck was riding in. Heavy footsteps were falling outside the car. Chuck could hear the distinct sound of someone struggling to breathe. Chuck stared at the passenger door. It groaned and creaked but whoever it was couldn't seem to open it, at least at first. The door finally gave way with a crunch of twisted metal and a disfigured and bandage hand reached in and grabbed Chuck's ankle. He swatted at it, trying to bat the hand away, but it had an iron grip. The hand dragged him from the car.

The horrible gasping breathing got worse as Chuck slowly emerged to see a man wrapped like a mummy. "You, Mr. Bartowski, are a hard man to get alone," it wheezed.

"Vincent," Chuck squeaked.

"Good," the bandaged man rasped. "You remember me. That will make this so much easier."

Chuck simply couldn't take it anymore, he started shaking as the terror washed over him and the world faded to black.

***

Lizzie had been leaning against the same wall for the last six hours. The worst part about being locked in here was that there was nothing to do. She had her own cell, thankfully. She'd had to watch as the men in the combined cell had dropped like flies and then some sort of hideous monster had ripped out one of their tongues. She might have spewed right on her detainment cell floor, if she hadn't been exposed to much worse at such a young age. She'd watched her father disembowel her boyfriend when she was sixteen. That kind of thing really hardened one's stomach against gruesome sights. It was also a shockingly good form of birth control. She didn't have sex again for four years.

The second worst part was that Lizzie had a horrible kink in her neck and she didn't know why. It felt like she must have wrenched it at some point, it really hurt. Her captors apparently didn't believe in providing quality medical care. Lizzie staggered as a thundering boom shook the entire underground installation. The lights went out and then flickered for a moment before turning back on.

Lizzie could have been more shocked when Tommy's face appeared in the doorway to the holding area.

"There you are," he said cheerfully.

"Tommy?"

"Hey baby, sorry to leave you in here for so long it took me a while to track you down."

"You pig, you left me for dead!" Lizzie screamed.

"They weren't going to kill you. Their leader hates lethal force. Why do you think so many of us made it to prison?" Tommy was fidgeting with the controls for the holding cell. There was some hideous clanking from the other room.

"What was that?" Lizzie asked.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you the good news. I've decided to form my own team. I'm tired of working for other people. I recruited a few people and we're working our own mission. We were a little short on equipment, so I decided to raid the CIA facility for supplies. I'd have never found it without you though, babe."

"What?" Lizzie growled, she had a feeling she wasn't going to like this.

"I let them capture you and then I used your subdermal tracking device to locate you, smart huh?"

"What subdermal tracking device?"

Tommy froze. "Oh…right… I never told you about that. Uh, back when we were dating I thought you might be cheating on me…I had a subdermal tracker installed in your abdomen. That was why we took that vacation to Cancun."

"You what?" Lizzie shrieked.

"Sorry, baby, you know how jealous I get. I just wanted us to be able to trust each other."

"You little bastard," Lizzie seethed.

"Hey, it's all good, I tracked you down. So what do you say? You want to reconcile?" Tommy asked.

"You're asking me now?" Lizzie spat.

"Well, I could just leave you here…"

"Tommy Montoya you get me out of this cell right now!!!" Lizzie screamed.

Tommy took a step back. "Well okay, I'm going to have to use some C-4. You might want to shield yourself with your mattress. This could get a little rough."

***

The town car cruised along the highway until they were on the North Coast of Oahu. The car just kept driving seemingly unaware of the island's small size. The beautiful beaches had turned into rough surf, crashing angrily against the rocks. It was still beautiful in a deadly sort of way. The open skies they'd seen in the southern part of the island had been replaced with heavy, foreboding clouds.

"Uh, where are we going?" Morgan finally asked.

"To the house," the man replied.

"What house?"

"We're almost there, I'll explain everything when we arrive the man said."

Morgan didn't like that answer at all. "You are from the culinary academy, right?"

"Yes, sir," the man agreed quickly. "Just sit back and enjoy the ride to your final destination."

For some reason, that phrase sent a shiver down Morgan's spine. Why did he have to say it like that? Anna seemed to sense his trepidation as she stiffened in the seat next to him. "So much crazy stuff has been going on the last couple weeks. You don't think this is some sort of bad guy do you?"

The car turned onto a smaller country late. Dirt and mud splashed up they went up the unpaved road. The jungle was heavy on either side of the car.

They drove for another four minutes the pace much slower as the car struggled over the rough road.

"Ah, here we are," the driver said cheerfully. The driver pulled the car into an already open garage door which immediately closed behind them.

"Uh, what's going on?" Morgan asked. Before he could get an answer another very large man stepped into the garage from the house. He opened the door for Morgan. "Welcome to Hawaii Ms. Woo and Mr. Grimes, I welcome you to be our guests."

"The guests of who?" Morgan asked.

"You'll find this will go a lot more smoothly the fewer questions you ask." The man's tone was friendly, but the menace behind his words was unmistakable.

"Are we trapped here?" Anna asked.

"I think you'll find your stay here so pleasant you won't want to leave."

Morgan gulped and looked at Anna, who reached out and squeezed his hand. "It'll be okay," she assured him.

***

Chuck blinked. He was in another car, something that was a lot less flashy. Air from a broken window was flooding in that provided him slight relief from the horrible stench coming from the thing sitting beside him.

"Where are you taking me?" Chuck asked.

The man gurgled briefly before replying "Nowhere."

Chuck thought for a moment. "Well, that obviously can't be true. We're in a car and we are moving. You're driving, therefore you're taking me somewhere."

"I require information," Vincent gasped. "Then I'll let you go."

"You aren't going to let me go," Chuck argued.

"Talking is difficult." Vincent stopped and gurgled hideously for a moment. "This will go faster if you don't argue with everything I say."

"Why would I believe you?" Chuck asked indignantly.

"I haven't killed you yet and I seem to have been poisoned with some sort of truth telling agent."

"You're kidding!" Chuck's eyebrows nearly left his face they shot up so quickly. _Vincent_ was poisoned by Reardon Paine. Chuck had not seen that one coming.

"I never jest."

"Wow, under truth serum too, you've never told a joke?"

"No. Can we get on with it? Talking is quite difficult."

"You really aren't planning on just pumping me for information and then killing me?"

"No."

"But why wouldn't you kill me?"

"I think I can provide sufficient leverage against you, by threatening your family."

Chuck paled. "You wouldn't!"

"Yes, I would. If you don't help me, or try and follow me, I'll hurt your sister, your father or your mother."

"You know my mother?"

"Yes."

"Where is she?" Chuck demanded.

"I don't know."

"Damn," Chuck muttered. "How did you get poisoned?" Chuck asked.

"One of the other prisoners, poisoned our water supply. He thought it would give him leverage over the other two. When I awoke, I drank the water and became poisoned. One of the other prisoners killed the poisoner."

"And you killed him?"

"No, he died from the poison." Vincent gave a tired sigh then coughed painfully.

"No, offense, but how come you aren't dead?" Chuck asked.

"I'm quite difficult to kill by traditional means."

"Why?"

Vincent choked and gagged for a few minutes. He visibly struggled not to answer, but eventually the truth came out anyway. "I've been genetically modified. When injured my body shuts down all unnecessary functions and concentrates on healing the injury. To most it appears I am dead. After the injury is sufficient healed I wake up. The injuries are painful however. Some injuries are too extensive to heal well." Vincent waved absently at his face.

"Oh," Chuck replied.

"I need your help, Mr. Bartowski. I need the location of the base codenamed Lazarus. There they can heal my injuries and restore me to my normal condition. It's where the original modification was completed."

Chuck immediately flashed when Vincent brought up the Lazarus base. Years of case files on soldiers flashed by. Lazarus had been a project to build more durable soldiers that started in the early sixties. By 1973 they had developed a process to condition soldiers through gene mutation and retroviruses.

"Why did they stop project Lazarus?" Chuck asked Vincent.

"The participants developed abnormal personality defects. Do you know what it does to the psyche to know you'll never die?" Vincent gasped. "Most of the test subjects are quite insane."

"Because you are the model of sanity?"

"I'm not insane. I do what is necessary."

"Necessary? You've killed like a dozen people in just the time I've known you."

"The airstrike in Barstow killed 93 people. Most of them had families. I didn't call in that airstrike."

"Touché."

"The location of the Lazarus Base was in the Intersect. I need you to tell me where it is, so I can get remedial treatment. Then I'll let you go."

"I can't tell you."

"If you don't tell me, I'll kill you and your family."

"Well that sucks. I didn't say I wouldn't tell you, it's just that I can't. It's in Oregon…I can't tell you how to get there, but I could um…drive you."

"You don't know where it is, but you'll take me there?" Vincent asked.

"Well I don't want you to kill me and I can't tell you how to get there. I just sort of know where it is."

"It seems we are in a difficult position."

"Look, just let me call my team and let them know I'm okay, and I'll take you there."

"That would be unacceptable. Your team would be forced to try and stop us."

"They think I was abducted."

"You have been abducted."

"Damn…you're right."

"If we leave now, you could call them by midday tomorrow," Vincent offered.

"You really aren't going to kill me when we get there?"

"I'm not some sort on monster. I won't kill you unless you compel me to do so."

Chuck looked at the partially melted man wrapped in bandages next to him. He certainly looked like a monster. "You have a deal."

***

"Please explain to me how this night can be called anything but a complete catastrophe?" General Beckman barked.

Sarah and Casey stood in front of the television in Casey's apartment. "Well Cole Barker is believed to have been captured with Chuck. There's a chance with Chuck's new abilities the two of them can escape together.

"Just to be clear, your team created an international incident, failed to capture the plutonium, the Castle has been ransacked, you allowed our prisoners to escape and the enemy has captured the most important intelligence asset in the world. You're telling me I should feel good about the fact that Bartowski and Agent Barker are together?"

"No ma'am," Casey responded. "While we were unable to detain most of the consulate guests, Agent Walker was able to capture Lon Kirk before things completely went sideways." Beckman's eyebrows rose in surprise. "We think, given how slickly he was able to avoid charges after the incident with the Taiwanese attaché and by his appearance at the auction tonight, that he definitely may have friends inside the Ring. We just need him to give us the name of someone who could give us the location where they're holding Bartowski."

"Are you forgetting exactly what a pain in the ass Lon Kirk was after we seized his boat? He spent months suing every agency he knew the initials for. I got my ass chewed by the president himself on Lon Kirk's behalf. He is still a very powerful man."

"Yes, ma'am," Casey agreed. "But dirty as hell."

"Agreed," Beckman nodded. "You wish to…" she cleared her throat, "interrogate him?"

"Affirmative," Casey nodded.

"Even if you get him to admit to something, he'd destroy the agency." Beckman shook her head, but she seemed to be talking more to herself than to Casey or Sarah.

"He's the only possible lead we have on finding Chuck," Sarah interjected. Sarah ran her hand over her forehead and then gasped from the gash on her forehead. Headbutting Kirk had been effective, but she hadn't exactly escaped unscathed. She hadn't even gotten treatment yet and she wouldn't…not while they had Chuck.

"I see." Beckman nodded.

"If you do this, you'll have to make sure it can never come back to the agency," Beckman warned.

"I'm aware of that." Sarah replied stiffly.

"You're both prepared to take this upon yourselves? You realize I can have no knowledge of your actions from this point forward."

"We know," Casey replied.

"Very well," Beckman agreed with a frown. "I expect a status report at oh-eight-hundred. By that time, this matter had better be permanently closed." Beckman pushed a button on her desk and the screen went blank.

Casey turned to Sarah. "Do you really have the stomach for this?"

"They've got Chuck," was all Sarah said in reply.

***

Sitting in the dark, the agent made the call. "This is October."

"Confirmed," Came the voice on the other end.

"Have you completed your mission?"

"The asset has gone missing. I was unable to obtain him."

"What happened to the asset?"

"He was captured by enemy forces."

"Damn it, I knew the NSA couldn't be trusted! What's happening now?"

"I don't know. We've had a series of incidents. Walker and Casey are keeping council only with each other. I'm not sure of the status of the team."

"Stay close October, we need that asset."

"Yes, Sir."

The agent hung up the phone and let out a long breath.

***

"You're growing tired," Vincent commented.

"Well, yeah, I've been up for a long time and I haven't been sleeping well."

"You require rest."

"We're almost there," Chuck mumbled.

"Are we?" Vincent asked. Chuck had been grateful for Vincent's continual silence up to this point. They'd spoken little since they came to their agreement. They had stopped for gas and Chuck had started driving.

"I think so."

It turned out they weren't as close as Chuck had hoped. He was driving on instinct. He knew where he was going…sort of. The Intersect had included detailed information on what it was like to drive to the base, but it had most assuredly not included the base's location. Chuck was driving by feel to a place he'd never been. He really hoped that he was right and that they were actually driving somewhere.

Chuck had a sudden surge of inspiration as they drove through Medford Oregon. He got off the freeway and headed east across the state. They had to stop for gas again and Vincent watched him warily as the man pumped the gas into the car. Chuck bought a map on impulse, not because it would help him get where he was going, but if he was ever going to find his way back, he'd probably need it.

About an hour past dawn, Chuck pulled onto a dirt lane and drove directly into the peeking sunlight. It appeared to be a Bureau of Land Management road, but was slightly better maintained than most federally managed land access roads. The map showed them to be nowhere and Chuck meant, _nowhere._ There wasn't a town listed on the map within forty miles of their current location. They drove six miles on the dirt road. As they crested the hill Chuck pulled the car to a stop. "We're here?"

"We are?" Vincent gasped.

Chuck got out of the car and pointed to the valley below. "Those buildings, in the center of the valley that's the base, I'm sure of it."

Vincent got out of the car and peered into the valley. "That does look familiar. I think you're right." Vincent nodded. "You've held up your end of the bargain…but I'm afraid I can't just let you leave."

"What?" Chuck squawked. "We had a deal!"

"Yes, we did, I feel it's time we altered the terms of our arrangement."

"You can't do that!" Chuck objected.

"You are a very valuable commodity, Mr. Bartowski. It would be foolish for me not to use you to bargain." Vincent made a horrible noise a he tried to breathe.

Chuck heard the distinct sound of a car engine. It was revving high as it came closer and it was coming closer fast. Vincent heard it as well, because he turned towards the noise. The two of them stared at the road as the car raced up the road they'd just been traveling down. The car came whipping around the bend and the engine hesitated for a moment as the driver let up on the gas, then they rammed the pedal down again and started barreling towards Chuck and Vincent. Chuck was horrified by the giant grill racing towards him, his conscious thoughts taken up by just three letters: GTO. At the last possible moment the car swerved to Chuck's right missing him, but putting the center of the grill squarely on Vincent. The driver slammed on the breaks as Vincent went hurdling down the hill.

The driver rolled down the window and a familiar head appeared. "Come with me, Chuck, you aren't safe here."

"Jill?" Chuck was flabbergasted. "What in the world are you doing here?"

"I've been following you since you left the consulate. Get in the car, we have to get you out of here!"

Chuck walked slowly to the passenger side of the GTO. He looked down the hill to where Vincent had disappeared, and then back to Jill's car again. Jill. Jill had come to rescue him from Vincent… But who was she working for? "Chuck come, on!" Jill shouted. There wasn't much to be done about it now. Chuck got in the car.

As soon as he was in his seat, Jill turned the car around and started racing down the road. "Jill, how could you possibly have followed me all the way here?" Chuck asked.

"I had help."

Chuck glared at her. "Are you working for the Ring?" Chuck demanded.

"Chuck! No!" Jill insisted.

"Then who's helping you?"

Jill shot him a cautious look. "Chuck, I'll tell you, I'll tell you everything, but first we have to get far away from here. Then I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"I need to call Sarah."

"It's not safe with Sarah."

"I need to call Sarah" Chuck insisted.

"First, we talk," Jill replied. "After that, if you still want to call Sarah. I won't try and stop you."

Chuck watched her as she drove. She'd look at him occasionally and smile. It was clear she was exhausted. If she'd really been following him all night she was probably as tired as he was. They drove for almost two hours before Jill pulled the car into the parking lot of a small diner. She stretched as she got out, her shirt pulling up and revealing her flat stomach. It appeared she had no gun and no knives that Chuck could see. "Are you hungry?" she asked.

Chuck nodded and followed after her warily. They sat in a booth in the corner of the mostly deserted restaurant. Even though the table appeared clean it had a slightly sticky feel to it. They both ordered coffee. Normally, Chuck despised coffee, but extreme times called for extreme measures. Jill's eyes were focused on the coffee, she said nothing for a long time. Then finally the words came.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"You rescued me. I should be thanking you," Chuck reasoned.

Jill gave him a small wan smile. "Today, I rescued you. Six years ago I hurt you and since then I've hurt you more and I'm sorry. I hope you know, hurting you was the last thing I ever wanted to do."

"Who are you working for?" Chuck asked again.

"Orion," Jill replied. Chuck's coffee cup clattered to the table spilling coffee everywhere. The two of them quickly worked to mop up the hot mess. It took a few minutes to get things cleaned up and the waitress glared at him when he asked for more coffee.

As the surly waitress walked away Chuck asked. "You're working with Orion?" Jill nodded. "How?"

Jill sighed. "It's a long story."

"Okay…well, talk fast."

"When we were at Stanford I was recruited by Fulcrum. You know that already. At first I refused and then my Uncle Bernie said that if I didn't do what they asked he'd kill my parents. I didn't believe him at first, but he eventually convinced me how serious he was. I didn't know what to do, I was twenty years old. You and I had only been dating a little while. There was nobody to turn to. Then senior year, I got a note from someone named Orion. He told me he knew the position I was in. I was so scared that he'd do something and my parents would get killed. He offered to help me…if I would in turn do something for him. He wanted me to look after you. It didn't make any sense, because you weren't involved in my mess with Fulcrum, you didn't even know."

"I'd have helped you," Chuck interjected. "If you had told me."

Jill's features melted and her eyes got glassy. "I know you would have, but I couldn't risk getting you tied up in my mess. I cared about you way too much to risk something happening to you."

Chuck frowned and turned his gaze away from their table. _Sure now she cared too much about him._ "So you broke my heart."

"I didn't have a choice, Chuck. You have to believe me. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. I turned Orion down, I didn't know who he was or if he could really help me. I went it alone and Fulcrum made me break up with you. They ran my life for five years. Everything I did. Fulcrum controlled who I worked for, who I was friends with, where I went on vacation. It was horrible. Then I bumped into you."

"And we started the cycle all over again."

Jill sighed. "You hate me."

"I don't _hate_ you." Jill gave him a tentative look. "But I'm not in love with you anymore either." Jill nodded and took a deep breath, but she didn't reply. When she started speaking again a few minutes later her voice was strained and choked. "So anyway, after you let me go, I was running scared for a few days. I had nobody left to turn to and then I got an email from Orion."

"What did it say?" Chuck asked.

"He wanted to meet."

"And you did?"

Jill nodded. "He said he'd help protect me from Fulcrum, if I came to work for him."

"What was the job?" Chuck asked.

"Same as before," Jill shrugged. "He wanted me to watch over you."

"So you can contact him?" Chuck asked.

Jill shook her head. She pulled out a cell phone. "He calls me periodically. Whenever I need help or information to keep going, he always calls. When he wants something he calls. The number is blocked though; I don't have anyway to contact him. But when I really need him, he always calls and he always knows exactly what I need."

"I don't have any idea what to say," Chuck admitted.

"Say you'll run with me. That you'll get the hell away from those people. Orion will help. It's not safe in Los Angeles for you. Let me help you."

"Sarah—" Chuck started

"Is using you!" Jill exploded. "Open your eyes Chuck! She's an agent, she'll do or say anything to keep you under her control. She'd even have sex with you. It doesn't mean anything to _her! _Sex is a weapon for her and she's using it against you. You're so blind." Jill finished helplessly. "You have to wake up. You'll never be safe with them."

"You're wrong about them, Jill, they care about me."

Jill shook her head, her eyes turning red with the tears she was fighting. She let out a long shuddering sigh. She ran her fingers through her hair and then rested her head in her hands. Her hair cascaded around her. "Jill, I have to call her."

***

Sarah wiped the towel over her hands again. The blood was long gone, but she could still see it covering her hands and wrists. She'd gotten it on her face…in her mouth…she could still taste the iron, she'd washed away more than an hour ago.

The screen popped on and General Beckman appeared. Sarah dropped the towel and stood rigidly. "I trust you got the intel you needed? General Beckman asked.

"Yes, Ma'am, Senator Arlen Jenks was Kirk's contact. Kirk provided him with means and did the Senator's dirty work. In exchange Jenks twisted political arms to keep Kirk out of trouble. He'd twist until they broke if necessary. Kirk doesn't know what the Ring is, but based on what he said, I'd guess the Senator is probably a founder."

General Beckman sighed. "Colonel Casey agrees with your assessment?" Beckman asked.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"What is your plan?"

"We need to question the Senator."

"Really, Agent Walker!" Beckman said harshly. "You do not just grab and question a United States Senator! I wouldn't allow it even if it wasn't Arlen Jenks, but Jenks is on the Senate Intelligence Committee." For the first time that Sarah had been witness two General Beckman blanched. "I mean, my God, I'm supposed to have lunch with him next week!"

"General, he may know the location of …"

"Absolutely not!" Beckman ordered. "If Jenks is dirty…" she trailed off. "Agent Walker I fear our problems may be much graver than we ever envisioned, but despite that, I cannot allow you to pursue Senator Jenks."

"General, if he's a founder of the Ring we have at see how far we can get—"

"Walker," the General said softly. "Arlen Jenks may someday be the president. His connections are limitless. You'll have to find a different way."

Sarah's phone started ringing. She checked it quickly, but didn't recognize the number. She pressed the cancel button and let it go to voice mail. It started ringing again almost immediately. A ray of hope shone brightly in the inky blackness that had once again enveloped her soul in the time since the Ring had captured Chuck. "General, do you mind if I take this? It could be Chuck."

The General looked at her appraisingly, but then said, "Go ahead."

"Hello?" Sarah asked as she pressed the phone against her ear.

"Sarah, it's Chuck."

"Oh, my, God!" Sarah whispered. "Are you okay?" Tears started leaking out of the corners of her eyes. Professionalism demanded that she not let them fall, but she was as powerless to stop her falling tears as she would be falling pianos.

"I'm fine," Chuck replied. "Are you okay…you got away from Kirk?"

"I'm fine," Sarah let out a sigh. It was Chuck, it was really Chuck and not a trick, because whatever he'd been through he was still worried about her. "Where are you?" Sarah demanded.

"I'm with Jill," Chuck replied. Sarah grabbed her chest as her heart shattered into a million little pieces. "How quickly can you get to Medford?" Chuck asked.

***


	13. Cruel Intentions

_A/N: This chapter is terribly, horribly late. My apologies to all. I was far more ambitious with my story concept than could ever be fully realized within the story framework, although I did my best. My most heartfelt thanks go out to both Truthseekr and Course Jester, for having the courage to look at this thing at the last minute. In particular, Truthie did without sleep so she could Beta this in a hurry. It is through these acts of sacrifice that you can identify your true friends. Whatever still isn't working in this chapter despite their gallant efforts is my fault, and mine alone._

_Also, I'd like to give special thanks to Timewalker and MySoapBox who agreed to allow the special circumstances surrounding this chapter (more on that later). They've been more tolerant and fair than I had any right to expect._

CHUCK VERSUS THE TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE,

NO GOOD, REALLY BAD DAY

Chapter 13

by Aardvark

Cruel Intentions

_Hampton Inn, Medford, Oregon – Wednesday_

"He did WHAT!" Sarah's voice screamed from the cell phone so loudly that Chuck had to move it away from his ear or risk permanent deafness. "How? Where? When did this happen!" she stammered unrelentingly, each question coming on the heels of and clipping the end of the last. Chuck thought she sounded really tired, frustrated and… something else he couldn't identify.

"When… your cover was blown by Lon Kirk," he started. He was going to say it happened when he'd left the van, but that wasn't going to help his case. "I went to try and find you, and Cole must've been waiting for me. When I woke up I was in his car, heading to San Diego. He was gonna put me on a submarine, at least that's what he told me."

There was a pause. Chuck couldn't tell if Sarah was processing the info he'd just given her or simply reacting to the extent of Cole's betrayal.

"That son of a bitch!" she finally exclaimed, causing Chuck to flinch. Well, that answered _that_ question. There was another pause, and he thought it best to keep quiet for the moment to avoid fueling Sarah's anger. After a few seconds, she continued in a more controlled tone. "How did you get away? And why are you in Oregon?"

Chuck sighed. There was so much to tell. "It's a long story. There was a car following us, I was able to slow us down, then the car rammed us and we spun out and flipped and then you'll never believe who…"

"Wait, you were in an accident!" Sarah interrupted. "Chuck, are you okay? Are you hurt?" Chuck smiled at Sarah's abrupt transformation from composed agent to concerned girlfriend. He knew that if only he was there with her right now she'd be examining him from head to toe, searching for any sign of injury, her hands roaming over every part of him, touching, assessing… He drifted a little as the vision played out in his mind.

"Chuck?" Sarah prompted, breaking him from his trance.

"Yeah? I mean no. No, I'm fine," he said, shaking his head slightly to refocus. "To cut to the end of the story, I'm free, I'm safe, and I'm laying low in a mid-price hotel," he finished with a weak attempt at levity. With any luck, she'd leave it at that, and he wouldn't have to recount the whole story for her on the phone with Jill hovering nearby.

After a long period of silence, Sarah spoke again. "So what's Jill doing there?" Chuck could hear the strain in her voice.

He'd known that question was coming. Truthfully, he'd expected it to be the first one she'd asked. Fortunately, he'd already prepared his response.

"Sarah, it's okay, she helped me escape. But now I have everything under control. _Everything_." He paused to let his words sink in for a moment. "I can answer all of your questions when I see you, but it's just too much to try and get out over the phone, okay?" Chuck hoped she'd take the hint as he waited nervously for her response.

"Okay," she said quietly. Chuck let out the breath he was holding. "I'll be there in a few hours," she added.

"That would be great," Chuck said with genuine enthusiasm. "We're at the—" .

"—Hampton Inn, I know, I traced your new cell." Sarah finished for him. Chuck's eyebrows went up. He kept forgetting how efficient secret agents were.

"Yeah, I lost mine and had to pick up a pre-paid one at a drug store," Chuck explained.

There was another long pause. Chuck wondered if Sarah was going to say something else, something more personal. He missed her terribly, and knowing she was coming lifted his spirits immensely. Didn't she feel the same way?

"Chuck?" Sarah said, her tone neutral.

"Yeah?" he replied, straining to hear what came next.

"_Wait for me_."

Three words, not the ones he was hoping for. But in her voice, he heard her speaking to him and him alone. In its soft undertones, he heard her yearning to be there with him. And in its echo he heard the word that wasn't spoken but was still somehow there. _Please_.

"I will," he replied.

After a few more seconds of silence there was a click, and the call ended.

Chuck replayed those three words over and over in his head. Her voice soothed him. It reminded him of when they were last together, her soft laugh an accompaniment to the playful hand that danced its way across his chest and around his neck, trailing a tantalizingly bare arm and the sudden proximity of those amazing blue eyes… He shuddered.

Eventually, he took the phone from his ear and switched off the screen. Looking up, he saw Jill, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed in front of her and an unhappy expression on her face.

"She's coming, isn't she?" Jill asked. It wasn't really a question.

Chuck didn't answer, sliding the phone into his pants pocket and turning to look out over the balcony.

_

* * *

Castle_

Sarah ended the call with a flick of her thumb, but she continued looking at and through the phone as she replayed the call in her mind. Chuck was okay, thank God, unhurt and safe for the moment. She let out a long sigh.

Her heart ached in his absence, and she'd tried to tell him at the end. But she couldn't do it justice, not with an open mic to Beckman behind her and Casey standing ten feet away. She hoped he'd heard the feeling she'd wrapped carefully into her plea. Chuck could be pretty perceptive when it came to her feelings, although sometimes...

She tried not to think of Jill's first return. There was always an exception to the rule.

He said he had everything under control, and she understood the message he was trying to send her. Trust, he'd asked her for, and trust she was willing to give him. It was that betraying, manipulative weasel with him that she didn't trust. The woman was like a cat with nine lives. Every time Sarah thought she'd rid herself of the…

Her nerves tingled, and she realized suddenly that she no longer heard Casey droning on in the background about the recent Castle damage. Turning around, she saw that both he and Beckman were staring at her expectantly. She cleared her throat and walked back over to rejoin the conference.

"Do you have news, Agent Walker?" Beckman asked. "Was it Bartowski?"

"Yes, ma'am. He's escaped from his abductor and is currently holed up in a hotel in Medford, Oregon." Sarah noticed both Beckman and Casey let out huge sighs at her affirmation.

Beckman cocked an eyebrow. "Medford? We don't have any intel regarding Fulcrum or Ring activity in that area."

Sarah took a deep breath. "General, Chuck wasn't taken by either Fulcrum or the Ring. He was abducted by Cole Barker."

Beckman pulled back from the screen with a sharp intake of breath, her face pale. Beside her, a low growl emanated from Casey's direction.

"Barker was driving them to San Diego but on the way they were involved in an accident and Chuck escaped. Apparently, Barker had plans for them to board a submarine." Sarah didn't need to say any more. As far as anyone knew, neither Fulcrum nor the Ring could give tasking orders to submarines – which meant a government, most likely the U.K., had decided to help themselves to the Human Intersect.

Beckman recovered from her astonishment quickly and resumed her business-like demeanor. "Thank you, Agent Walker, I'll pursue that matter from here. Colonel Casey?"

"Ma'am?" Casey stiffened reflexively.

"Find the location of that accident and send a team there immediately to find and detain Agent Barker. If we're lucky, he might be too gravely injured to evacuate quickly. And Colonel…"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"_T__ry_ and take him alive," Beckman said in cold voice that still gave Sarah chills.

"Understood." Casey acknowledged.

"Agent Walker?"

"Yes, ma'am?" Sarah caught the slightest change in the General's voice. A more relaxed tone, perhaps?

"I presume you're going to want to retrieve Mr. Bartowski personally."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Fine. Just make sure the two of you are back at Castle by oh-nine-hundred Monday for the morning briefing. Now, if there's nothing else…" Beckman reached over to terminate the conference.

Sarah blinked, twice. She was pretty sure her confused expression did not go unnoticed by the General. Beside her, she caught Casey's slight jerk as he digested Beckman's order.

"Uh, ma'am?" Sarah blurted out, interrupting Beckman's motion.

"Yes?" Beckman asked with one eyebrow raised.

"It's Wednesday."

Beckman scowled. "I know what day of the week it is, Agent Walker."

"I guess… I don't think I'm quite…" Sarah began, haltingly.

The General pulled back from her keyboard and sighed deeply. "Agent Walker, it is clear to me that Operation Zodiac, as it was originally conceived, is fatally flawed and that no agency location in Los Angeles is safe. And after Agent Barker's recent actions, I am inclined to believe that the only agents I can trust with the asset are the two of you."

Casey and Sarah both nodded.

"Colonel Casey, you will stay at the Castle and supervise the repair effort as well as coordinate the remaining team in the hunt for the Plutonium. Walker, you will look after the asset."

"Yes, ma'am," they nodded in unison.

Beckman leaned forward towards the camera. "Agent Walker, I think, under the present circumstances, that it's time we put the 'special' relationship you have with Bartowski to good use. Go to Medford, secure the asset, and stay there to protect him. Tour the area, see the sights, stay in a room the whole time, I don't care. Just keep him away from L.A. and out of trouble for the next several days. Do you think you can manage that?"

Sarah nodded and said something she thought was 'mmm hmm', but she wasn't sure because she couldn't hear very well over the excited girl screaming inside her head.

"And Walker?"

"Ma'am?" Sarah replied.

"We're running out of options with regard to the Intersect," Beckman continued gravely. "If we can't keep Bartowski from falling into the wrong hands…" She let the veiled threat hang, knowing Sarah would understand the cold calculus that ruled their world.

"Yes, ma'am." Despite the grim warning, Sarah couldn't concentrate on anything except the delightful and unprecedented prospect of having five days down time with Chuck. She was vaguely aware of the General telling Casey something about being out of the office and giving him some kind of contact information but she didn't snap back to real time until she noticed the view screen had gone blank. Then she felt Casey's hard stare on the side of her face and turned to face him.

Casey looked at her with his patented half smirk. She knew it all too well. Beckman had just set him up with a lifetime supply of material for quips and barbs and it appeared as though he was getting ready to deliver an avalanche of them.

"Go ahead, Casey," Sarah said, "Let me have it. I'm sure you have a few choice remarks." She crossed her arms in front of her, fixing him with what she hoped was a fierce glare but was actually coming out a bit smug and self-satisfied.

Casey's smirk got a little wider and it looked like he was getting ready to say something when his eyes flicked down to her hand – the abraded, reddened knuckles a sobering reminder of the last several hours they'd spent in a containment cell with Lon Kirk. His smirk faded, replaced by a more thoughtful expression as he studied her face. It was almost as if he could still see the blood from where she'd wiped it away. Self-consciously, Sarah reached up to brush at her hair with her fingers.

"What?" she said finally, exasperated by Casey's silence and his staring.

He considered her carefully, his own expression unreadable. Finally he spoke.

"Don't let your guard down," he paused, "and check in when you get there."

Without another word, he turned and walked away. Sarah stared after him, incredulous. That was it? She wasn't sure what had just happened.

Still perplexed by Casey's retreat, she walked over to the arms locker and started pulling out drawers to look for spare clips for her S&W. She grabbed a silencer, a TAC belt, and a knockout spray dispenser. While walking by the refrigerator, she remembered something that was in there – something that she had the strangest compulsion to take with her.

She opened the door and reached inside, extracting the wooden stand full of vials. Glancing around to make sure she was alone, she slipped out one red vial before starting to put the stand back in the fridge, but hesitated at the last moment and pulled a green vial as well. She tucked both of the vials into the TAC belt and replaced the stand on its shelf.

_

* * *

Just off the I-5, two miles south of Mission Viejo, California_

With careful coordination, the EMT's and firemen pulled Cole Barker's broken and bleeding body out of the wreckage that used to be an Aston Martin Vantage. He was unconscious, but alive, a testament to the superb physical shape he was in – a fact that gave the paramedics hope he might survive the short trip to the hospital.

As they loaded him into the back of the ambulance, one of the techs found Barker's wallet in his inside jacket pocket.

"His name is Cole Barker, British national. A diplomat of some kind," he yelled to his partner, who began addressing Cole by his first name as he hooked up the I.V. and cardiac pads. The tech turned over the embassy identification card and found an emergency contact number. Stepping off the ambulance, he handed the card to the nearest police officer.

_

* * *

Alaska Air Flight 2424 from LAX to MFR_

Sarah perused the CIA file on Senator Arlen Jenks. He was old money, a familial heir to the Jenks shipping empire with hubs all over the world. He had aunts, uncles, and nephews in various forms of government and military service, as well as some very high profile friends in foreign countries. Sitting astride the twin capitals of commerce (NYC) and government (Washington D.C.), Jenks was connected through redundant professional networks, not to mention his extensive pyramid of family and friends. His reach, much like his resources, was probably limitless. No wonder Beckman was spooked.

She clicked on the queue of most recent intel, skimming the list of charity event appearances, political fundraisers, and newspaper and TV interviews. One item caught her eye, a notice that Jenks was throwing a party in Montauk Friday night on his yacht (he had a yacht?) for a number of his VIP friends and associates. Apparently, it was a meet and greet between shipping firms eager to stem their losses from piracy in the Indian Ocean and various country's military representatives who could ostensibly provide them with protection. She clicked on the item.

As the window opened, her eyes were drawn to the iconized pic of a ship. The caption indicated this was the _Majestic_, Jenks yacht, purchased from Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum of the Dubai royal family after the Sheik's ego apparently outgrew it. Sarah clicked on the thumbnail and it zoomed to full size. Whoa, that was a big yacht. _Two_ helicopter pads. It's own wet dock in the stern for pleasure craft. Three decks. A marching band could hide on that thing. One person, who didn't want to be found? That person could probably avoid detection for quite awhile.

Sarah snorted softly. _Always with the spycraft_, she thought to herself. Couldn't she just admire a pretty boat like everyone else? Apparently, not. She stared at the pic, finding blind spots in the lines of sight, tracing the escape routes, looking for the best insertion points. Doing what she was trained to do without even thinking about it. When she'd learned all she could from the pic she closed the window.

She opened the list of expected guests to Jenks' party, scrolling through the names and identities, looking for anyone of interest, perhaps someone who was out of place, who… _wait. _This was odd. Petru Iorga. Former Colonel in the Romanian army, once the commander of Romania's secret nuclear forces during the reign of Ceauşescu', she read. What was he doing there?

Iorga was the kind of man who would have access to poorly guarded nuclear materials, someone who might be looking to enrich themselves at the world's expense, trading in black market Plutonium. A person who, if interrogated under the right conditions, might give up a list of buyers and sellers. Her mind flashed to the Pentothal vial, safely tucked into her check-in luggage. With the right resources at her disposal, she could be on that yacht in twelve hours, thirteen tops.

She pushed aside this idea with a huff, but then another, darker one, replaced it – one offered by the other part of herself, the part she'd tried to relegate to her past. She'd called upon this part of her when she'd had to force the truth from Lon Kirk, and it was the same part of her that she'd summoned to help pull the trigger on that bastard Mauser amidst the Christmas trees. Jenks was dirty, Lon Kirk had made that plain. He was a big wheel in the Ring, maybe even the top guy. The Ring had to depend on him heavily for information and resources. If something were to happen to him…

She shook her head and blinked. What was she doing? She was supposed to be heading for a happy rendezvous with Chuck, a chance for them to spend some time together without Casey and government eavesdropping. Not scheming up a risky and flagrantly illegal operation that could end up destroying any hope they had of a real future together.

All she needed to do was get there, deal with Jill, and the rest of the time was theirs.

She clenched her jaw and tried to clear her head. Were these possibilities really important enough for her to throw away this opportunity to be with Chuck? Could anything be?

_

* * *

Hampton Inn, Medford, Oregon_

Chuck sat on the couch in the small living area of their hotel room, his feet up on the coffee table and the television on. From outward appearances he seemed to be reading a magazine, but he'd been on the same page for the last twenty minutes. He wanted to call Devon and find out Ellie's condition, but he knew how stupid that idea was – if someone was tracing his family's incoming calls they'd locate and whisk him away before he even got off the phone. It would be Barstow all over again. He couldn't take that chance, not after witnessing Vincent's dogged persistence and the unpardonable betrayal by his own teammate.

Cole. He hadn't seen that one coming. Chuck had believed that Cole was the real deal – a James Bond-like agent who, beneath the debonair charm and roguish manner, was a genuinely good guy. A guy who would always, in the end, do the right thing. But Cole was ready to put him in a bunker for the rest of his life on orders from his government. James Bond wouldn't do that. That wasn't how those movies ended.

Since the Intersect had come into his life, there were only two people he had learned to trust: Casey and Sarah. But of those two, only one of them had proven to be completely trustworthy by choosing him _over_ her orders. She was never far from his thoughts.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jill come in from the bedroom, apparently tired of lying on her bed. She plopped down on the end chair and pulled her legs up, crossing them in front of her on the cushion.

"So, we're just waiting here for her?" Jill asked.

Chuck didn't look away from the magazine. "Yeah. I think so."

Jill sighed, her gaze drifting down and away from him. Out of the corner of his eye, Chuck saw her head turn every so often, her eyes fixed on various parts of the room. She seemed to be going through things she wanted to say, rejecting them one after another. Finally, she stared at the coffee table for several minutes.

"Chuck, this is a mistake—" she exclaimed suddenly, but a tinny ring interrupted her. It was her cell. "Hang on," she said, as she stood and moved to the bedroom area. Chuck pretended not to listen, but he focused on every sound coming from her direction. He heard her say 'I know,' and 'I'm trying,' and 'as soon as I know.' After a long silence, she walked back into the room, extending the phone toward him. "He wants to talk to you."

Chuck stared at the phone in her hand, then got up and took it, heading for the back of the bedroom. When he'd gone as far as possible, he turned sideways, so he could see that she'd stayed behind and wasn't eavesdropping, as he had. He put the phone to his ear.

"Dad?" he asked, tentatively.

_

* * *

Rogue Valley International Airport, Medford, Oregon_

"Casey, it's me," Sarah spoke into the cell phone as she towed her suitcase down the long sidewalk to the rental car lot. "I'm on the ground in Medford. The hotel isn't even a mile from here, I should be there in five." Sarah thought she heard a small grunt of acknowledgment, which made her grin for some reason she couldn't explain.

"Well, just in case you haven't started doing all of your thinking with your glands yet," Casey quipped, "We've gotten an update on the Plutonium."

Sarah rolled her eyes. Whatever had held Casey back at the Castle seemed to have been short-lived.

"The NEST advisory team was able to analyze the radiation signature of the Plutonium they were tracking," Casey reported. "They say there's no way that Plutonium originated in Russia. It may have been put on a boat in Chechnya, but they're 98% certain the material came from Romania."

Sarah came to an abrupt stop, her suitcase crashing into her leg and falling on its side. She recalled the guest list from Jenks' party, specifically the man who'd stood out. "Casey, there's an ex-Romanian Colonel attending a party on Arlen Jenks' yacht in Montauk Friday night. He used to be in charge of Ceauşescu's secret nuclear weapons stockpile. Interesting coincidence, don't you think?"

There was a pause. Sarah figured Casey was reacting to her mention of the Senator. "What's his name?" Casey asked.

Sarah searched her memory. "Petru Iorga."

"Hang on."

In the background, Sarah could hear Casey's fingers clumsily tapping on keys. She stood awkwardly on the sidewalk in the midday sun, feeling like she was going to perspire in her cover business attire. Loose strands of her pinned-up hair blew around her face in the strong breeze.

"Petru Iorga boarded a Lufthansa flight in Bucharest two weeks ago, headed to San Juan. He transferred there to an American Airlines flight enroute to Tortola, BVI. There isn't any evidence he's left there for Montauk, but I guess there's still time. I'll put a tracker on it."

"Thanks." Sarah kept the line open but she didn't say anything more. She knew what the next logical thing to say was but she'd forbid herself from pursuing it.

"Walker… I'm starting to get the feeling that you didn't take the General seriously when she told us to leave _Senator_ Jenks alone. I think she probably meant his boat and his friends as well."

"I know, but…" Sarah said, sullenly. She let the silence drag out.

"But what?" Casey prompted.

Sarah struggled with herself. She could turn around right now. If she just told him it was nothing…

She sighed and her head sagged. "Casey, if we really want to find that Plutonium before a large portion of a major city turns into vapor… Look, I think there's a good chance that if we dose Iorga with Pentothal and interrogate him, we may be able to pin down the legitimate buyers and track them to the buy." Sarah grimaced. She knew full well the road she'd just turned onto.

There was a silence on the line while Casey thought things through. Sarah popped the trunk of the rental car, threw her bag in, and then got in the car.

"Let's say I go along with this idea for the moment," Casey ventured warily. "How are we going to get to Iorga? And who's going to do it? I'm in the middle of this Castle rebuild and you're supposed to be protecting the asset, which, if I remember correctly, is our priority mission."

She closed her eyes and bowed her head for the sacrifice she was about to commit. She only hoped Chuck would forgive her.

"It will have to be me, Casey. Beckman expects you to be available via video conference every day, but all she expects from me is an infrequent phone call. That's something I could manage, even on the move." There was a derisive snort from the other end of the call. Sarah recognized it as a sign of Casey's exasperation.

"I don't get you, Walker," Casey admonished. "You finally get the chance to knock knees with the nerd free and clear, and all you want to do is go on a mission? What's wrong? You afraid he's going to go all 'Kung Fu' on you at a delicate moment?"

Sarah sighed. "Casey—"

"Besides," Casey continued, "there's no guarantee this lead will pan out. It could all turn out to be a big pile of nothing, and we'd end up putting the Intersect at enormous risk. It just doesn't add up."

"Casey, I want Chuck safe more than anyone, but I feel like we're on borrowed time here," Sarah explained. "If we don't do something drastic, we're going to lose him, sooner or later."

Casey grunted, a signal she took as approval for her to continue.

"Arlen Jenks is a high ranking member of the ring, if not its leader. If he's keeping sensitive material around, his yacht is the perfect hiding place for it. There's sure to be a safe onboard. If we can use what's in there to deal a crippling blow to the Ring, they might be so busy trying to repair the damage that they have to drop their search for Chuck and we can get our second wind. If we're really lucky, the Ring falls apart and the nightmare we're living through ends here."

"Hmm, I dunno Walker. It still sounds like a bad idea," Casey said solemnly. "If Beckman knew we were even _thinking_ about this, I'd be busted back to Captain and you'd be tracking down fake internet Princes in Nigeria."

"Look, Beckman was right," Sarah pushed her point home. "Our tactics aren't working. The fact that Chuck's still with us is largely due to luck and his own abilities. And we haven't been facing anything more than a rag-tag collection of Fulcrum rejects so far. What do you think is going to happen when the Ring starts sending their own teams?"

Casey grunted, but otherwise stayed silent. Sarah knew he was fuming, but he could calculate their chances as well as she could. She waited patiently, half of her hoping his reasoning side would win; half of her hoping it would lose and her consolation prize would be a promising five days off with Chuck.

"What are you going to do with Chuck?" His voice was subdued, resigned. Sarah smiled grimly, Casey had just said 'yes'.

"I'll think of something," she assured him. Her optimism was a lie. She had no idea what she was going to do, but it was a problem she could work on later.

"Beckman can never find out about this, you know that, right? And without agency support, how are you going to get onto the yacht?"

Sarah started the car. "Well, _Colonel_ Casey, can you still command Spec Ops resources?"

_

* * *

Oahu, North Coast_

Instinctively, Morgan stood up from the chaise lounge on the lanai and moved closer to Anna when he heard the approaching footsteps. Both of them watched as the man, with a huge bodyguard in trail, walked to them slowly, wearing a loose, linen robe and leather sandals. He stopped in front of them.

"My name," he said, "is Mr. Hu. I am your host." He looked at Morgan and then at Anna in turn.

"Uh… I'm Morgan and this is…" Morgan began.

"I know both of your names, of course. I simply wanted to introduce myself and inform you that you will be my guests for the time being. Once some business with a mutual acquaintance is concluded, you will be released unharmed," Hu stated.

"Look, I don't know what this is about," Morgan said as he walked over to the smaller, Chinese man, "but I have to tell you that my family doesn't have any money, so ransom is so out of the question."

Hu turned his head slightly, and his body guard stepped forward into Morgan's path.

"Morgannnn…" Anna called out to him, reaching for his arm.

"Whoa, whoa there, big fella," Morgan said, his palms up and outstretched in front of him.

"It would be wise for you to move slowly, at this point, Mr. Grimes," Hu advised.

Morgan looked up at the mountain of a man standing in front of him. He looked liked Goldfinger's assistant in that Bond movie, the guy who could chop off statue heads with his razor-brimmed hats. Except bigger. Much bigger. Letting Anna pull him, he backed away slowly until his calves hit the lounge, and then he fell back onto it beside her.

Mr. Hu looked pleased. "If you act civilly, you will find my hospitality fair and generous. If you do not, you will likely not enjoy your stay here very much. It is your choice, but you might wish to remember where you are."

"And where is that?" Anna asked tersely.

"Why," he said, chuckling to himself and surveying the landscape around them, "It is paradise, of course." He signaled to his bodyguard and they retreated into the house.

Morgan and Anna looked at each other, and she gave him an encouraging smile. "It'll be okay Morgan, you'll see." He didn't look convinced.

_

* * *

Hampton Inn__,__ Medford, Oregon_

Sarah stood in front of room 314 with no small amount of trepidation. Chuck had been with Jill for over six hours now. And while Sarah trusted him more than she ever had before, she could still feel the stabbing pain from that day in the surveillance van, when Chuck, floating on air, had returned from Jill's room with news that she'd kissed him. And just like that, in a scant thirty minutes, he'd gone from her cover boyfriend-maybe more than a cover, to a man in love _w__ith__ someone else_. Afterward, Sarah wasn't even sure that he'd remembered who she was.

That couldn't happen again. Chuck, and his family, were hers now. If it came down to a battle with Jill, Sarah would not sit passively by like she had before. This time she'd fight.

Clenching her jaw, she took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Immediately, she heard someone moving inside and then the door was wrenched open.

It was Chuck, and when he saw her he stared so intensely into her eyes that she gasped audibly and a blush started across her cheeks. "Hi…" she started to say, but before she could get out his name he'd moved forward and pressed his lips to hers, wrapping his arms around her in a delirious embrace. For the briefest of moments she tensed – out of habit – but then she remembered where she was and gave in to him, returning his kiss fervently and reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck.

Chuck seemed desperate to unleash all of his pent up feelings through the kiss and Sarah frantically tried to respond with 'yes' and 'me too' sentiments of her own. He drew back just long enough to search her eyes for a reaction, staring deeply into them with passion and exhilaration. When he saw her face flushed with her own need and desire, his grin became a full-on gleam.

He kissed her again, slower and more deeply, moving his hands up her shoulder blades until his fingertips reached the base of her neck, pulling her firmly against him. Sarah lost track of everything around her, the entire world shrinking to a small bubble where only the two of them existed.

After what seemed like an eternity, they broke, and she drifted back slowly, her eyes half closed in a tranquil daze. This wasn't the reception she'd planned for or expected. It was _so_ much more.

She closed her eyes and let her feelings run free.

Chuck cradled her face in his hands and began to lay soft kisses everywhere, on the corners of her mouth, her cheeks, her eyelids and even gently, delicately, around the bandage covering the wound on her forehead. But always, he'd return to her lips, taking her breath away every time they touched. She soaked up every bit of his attention, laughing softly at each new place he found and giving him contented sighs when he located a particularly pleasurable one.

Finally, with things heading to a very predictable destination, Sarah reluctantly summoned all of her willpower and moved her hands to Chuck's shoulders, pushing him back gently. If she didn't cool things off now, they'd never make it out of the hallway. He searched her face, a question on his lips, but she reassured him with her touch and her smile, eyes burning brightly with a fire that matched his own.

"Miss me?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him playfully.

Chuck laughed. "Me? No. What would ever give you that idea?" His smile grew impossibly wide, and he grabbed her again, lifting her into a bear hug. She squeezed back tightly, closed her eyes and turned her head so her lips were next to his ear.

"I missed you too," she whispered softly. His embrace tightened at her words, and she luxuriated in it, putting her head on his shoulder and letting him rock her gently side to side as he squeezed her against him.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw Jill.

And in that moment, Sarah realized how needless her anxiety over Jill's presence had been. She sat alone in the room, looking dejected and utterly miserable. Her face was turned away, obviously and awkwardly trying to avoid the torrid scene in the doorway. She'd been right there beside Chuck all morning, but he'd just made it abundantly clear who he'd been thinking about all of that time.

Sarah moved her hand to the middle of Chuck's chest and pressed gently until he released her. He looked down inquisitively, but she just smiled and maneuvered him aside so she could lean in the doorway. She fixed a stare on Jill, her expression changing to one of cold appraisal. Jill noticed the lull in commotion and looked up at her, her eyes piercing daggers of distrust and resentment.

"We'll be back in a few hours. Don't go anywhere," Sarah told her.

Jill stiffened immediately and stood up from her chair. "Wait, where are you going?" The distress on her face was obvious.

Sarah couldn't help the smug smile that showed on her face. "Oh, don't worry. We won't be far." She turned and took Chuck's hand, pulling him out of the doorway and down the hall. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jill take a hesitant step towards the door before it shut with a loud slam behind them.

While she'd had different plans for her first encounter with Jill, Sarah was achingly aware of how little time she and Chuck now had to take advantage of this opportunity. She was damned if she was going to waste any of it on her.

"Sarah, where are we…" Chuck started, before she turned to him and put her index finger to her lips. Two doors down, she pulled a key from her pocket and unlatched the door, backing through it while pulling Chuck along by his hands. Part way in she released him, and he watched from the doorway as she coasted backwards, reaching up to her neck to undo her pendant. She took it off and laid it on the dresser, then started working on the top buttons of her blouse.

Chuck's eyes widened and he seemed mesmerized by what was happening in front of him. When she finished with the buttons, she gave him a seductive look and glided back to him.

"Chuck?" She said silkily, stepping out of her heels.

"Yeah?" he said, licking his lips unconsciously.

"I noticed we have a few hours downtime in front of us, and as a professional colleague I was hoping you could help me with a problem I'm having." As she got closer she gave him an mischievous smile and batted her eyelashes at him.

"O-Oh?" Chuck replied, his voice fluttering. His breathing was coming in short pants.

"Yes, I need you to help me work out some separation anxiety I've been having with my boyfriend," she said, putting her hands on his shoulders and making small circles.

Chuck's eyebrows raised and his jaw dropped slightly. "Uh…yeah, okay. I mean, sure…" he stammered.

"Oh, and Chuck?" she asked softly, putting her lips near his ear.

"Yeah?" He gulped.

"Candy Apples," she whispered, her breath warm in his ear. She dropped the blouse off her shoulders and tugged him gently forward.

Chuck shivered involuntarily as the door slammed behind him.

_

* * *

Mission Regional Medical Center, Mission Viejo, California_

The two orderlies wheeled the gurney down the hallway towards the ICU with practiced nonchalance. To a casual observer, there was nothing unusual about their behavior, but a closer inspection would have revealed their taut expressions and eyes that constantly sought out every detail of the floor they were traversing.

Behind them, a doctor followed at a short distance, seemingly on his own errand but pacing the gurney with absolute precision. As the gurney closed on station 3 in the ICU, the doctor took a device from his pocket and tossed it into the small kitchenette area. It sputtered twice, then began emitting a huge volume of black smoke. Immediately, the doctor moved to the nearby fire alarm handle and pulled it down hard. He raced forward to the central nurses station.

"Fire! He yelled at the nurses, pointing back across his body at the cloud of dense smoke belching from the kitchenette doorway. "We've got to move these patients out of here!" When none of the nurses seemed to be taking any action, he grabbed the nearest one, put his nose two inches from her face and screamed, 'NOW!" This had the expected effect, and a cacophony of noise ensued as the nurses began organizing to displace the ICU's charges.

"You two!" the doctor ordered, pointing at the two orderlies and their gurney. Help me get this patient to safety." Without any hesitation, they began to transfer the patient's hookups to the portable equipment on the gurney. The doctor glanced back over his shoulder to check on the nurses, but they seemed to be embroiled in the effort to figure out the correct procedure and were currently ignoring them. So much the better, he thought.

With a nod from each orderly, they moved together down the hall towards the elevator, pulling along the gurney and its unconscious occupant.

_

* * *

Hampton Inn, Medford, Oregon_

Sarah woke in her new, favorite position, with her head tucked into Chuck's shoulder and her arm wrapped around his bare chest. She took great pains not to move a muscle and to maintain her steady pace of breathing. If she could, she'd stay in this moment forever – or at least, as long as real life would allow. She couldn't remember another time or place when she'd felt such pure satisfaction, such joy in just being alive.

She opened her eyes, carefully, searching for his face. He slept peacefully, his expression radiating contentedness. It made her smile out of love for him, but a mix of other feelings came too: Sadness, fear… guilt.

Chuck stirred, and she realized sadly that the moment was rapidly approaching where she'd have to tell him what she'd done.

"Chuck?" she said softly. She caressed his shoulder gently until his eyes opened a crack and found her.

"Hey…" he croaked. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long." She smiled warmly at him. "How do you feel?"

Chuck's eyes opened wider, his dark brown pupils perfect reflectors of the afternoon sun. He beamed a huge grin at her. "I don't think words have been invented yet to describe how I feel."

"Good," she teased. "Did you find me imposing? I was going for imposing."

He laughed. "Yes, I think I can safely describe your performance as imposing. Also amazing… incredible… breathtaking… astonishing…" With every adjective Chuck leaned over and placed a small kiss on her lips, followed by another and another...

"Okay, okay," Sarah said between kisses, tapping on his chest with her fingers.

"…stunning… brilliant… overwhelming… awe-inspiring…" he continued.

"Chuck!" she mock scolded, giving him a small head-butt on his next approach.

"Ow!" they both said in unison, Chuck from the unexpected conk and Sarah from the contact with her forgotten head wound. They looked at one another, each holding their foreheads, and started to laugh. Tenderly, he reached out to move her hand away from her bandage and, overriding her instinct, she let him.

"No permanent damage, Captain," he said in a bad Scottish brogue. When Sarah raised an eyebrow in response, he added, "It's Scotty from… You know what? Never mind," he smirked.

"So my head's a starbase now?" she quipped. "Well, at least that explains all of the docking."

He laughed out loud, shaking his head from side to side with genuine amusement in his eyes. "Since when did you become funny, Sarah Walker?" Chuck asked approvingly.

"I guess you just bring out the worst in me," she said, a gleam in her eye.

They both laughed.

Sarah let her gaze fall to the covers while she gathered her thoughts. They could do this for hours, but there was so little time left and so much that needed to be said. She pulled herself up onto one elbow, looking at him pensively.

Chuck caught the shift in her mood and raised up on his own elbow to face her. "Sarah? What's wrong?" He reached out and took her hand.

She stared down at their hands, fingers interlinked. "Chuck, Beckman wants me to keep you here, in Medford. Moving around, maybe, keeping a low profile."

Chuck started to smile. "That… sounds… great! Sarah, we could tour all over the place and still have enough time to catch a flight back to L.A. on Sunday! I mean, the two of us –"

"No, Chuck… " Sarah interrupted. She sighed deeply. "I have to leave. Tonight. In the early morning, probably. For a mission."

"What?" Chuck looked stunned. " I don't get it, I thought you said that Beckman wanted us to stay here?"

"She did… she does." Sarah sighed, looking at him sadly. "Chuck, Beckman didn't give me this mission. I did."

Chuck blinked and pulled his hand back from Sarah's as if he'd been burned. He stared at her in confusion. "Why would you do that, Sarah? What could be so important that you'd blow the one and only opportunity we've had to be together?"

Sarah felt the absence of his hand like the loss of her own limb. "It's better if you don't know the details," she winced, staring up at him and desperately trying to make him understand. How would knowing where she was going help him? He couldn't go with her, although he'd want to. Besides, if what she was about to do blew up in her face, he wouldn't have to feign ignorance if he really didn't know anything. He'd actually _be_ innocent.

"No," Chuck said with such determination that it took Sarah aback. "No more silence. No more lies. From here on in, only the truth. You need to tell me the _truth_, Sarah."

She could only look at him, her mind in gridlock. She sat up and pulled the sheet up to her neck, suddenly feeling very exposed. "Chuck, there are… aspects to this mission that might not bear up under official scrutiny – if you don't know about them, they can't be used against you," she explained.

Chuck slowly backed off the bed and stood beside it. Then he started picking up items of his clothing from the floor, putting them on quickly as Sarah watched him, panic filling her heart. What was happening here? _Chuck, stop_.

"Wait…" she pleaded, but he kept going, eventually getting both shoes on and standing up to leave. He turned before heading for the door, looking down at her in such pain that her heart ached. The sense of déjà vu was overpowering. She'd been here not so long ago, standing in a church trying to explain to Chuck that she was leaving with Bryce the next day.

"Good luck on your mission. And don't worry about me – your _real_ mission. I'll stay here until Sunday before heading back to L.A. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble with Beckman." With a last glance he turned and walked to the door.

Sarah watched his retreating back, her arms and legs jerking spasmodically as her body fought itself to either run after him or let him go. "No, Chuck… Wait!" she cried. Somewhere in her mind a voice was screaming even as the pressure in her chest grew unbearable. _Not again_. As he reached for the door handle she couldn't stand it anymore.

"Truth!" she screamed. She closed her eyes. "I'll tell you the truth," she called out, sagging back onto the bed, defeated.

Chuck froze, the door already open, and let the handle slip from his hand. As it slammed behind him, he turned around and walked slowly back to the bed. Sarah looked down at the bed as he sat on its edge, pulling one knee up onto it for comfort.

"Okay. I'm listening," he said.

As her breathing calmed, she started to tell him about Arlen Jenks, Petru Iorga, the yacht, the party, the Plutonium, just about everything there was to know about the mission.

She only left one thing out.

_

* * *

Casa Bartowski – Thursday, 1:15 AM PST_

The buzzing insect that Devon frantically tried to swat away from his head turned out to be Ellie's cell phone, ringing incessantly on the end table by their bed. In a half stupor, he reached over to grab it and pressed the 'talk' button, bringing it up to his ear.

"Hello?" he managed to mumble.

"Mr. Bartowski, please." The words echoed inside Devon's fogged brain, leaving him struggling with how to respond.

"This is… Doctor Woodcomb, _Eleanor_ Bartowski's husband. Can I help you?"

There was a silence.

"Hello?"

"May I speak to Charles Bartowski, please."

"Look," Devon said, growing irritated, "if you mean Chuck, I have no idea where he is, but I'd appreciate it if you'd use his own personal…"

"I think you fail to understand the situation at hand," the man interrupted.

Devon heard sounds of a struggle in the background, then a new voice came from the phone.

"Chuck? Chuck, are you there man? Some guys grabbed us at the airport and brought us to this – Ow!, What? I was just telling him…"

"Morgan?" Devon whispered tersely. "MORGAN?" He'd heard someone else who sounded a lot like Anna calling Morgan's name at the same time he had.

Taking care not to disturb Ellie, Devon rolled onto his feet and headed for the door. When he opened it, Carina was standing there. He flinched, startled. She gave him an irritated look and held out her hand, indicating the phone with her eyes. He handed it over, and followed as she walked back down the hall.

"This is Ellie Bartowski," Carina said, "what can I do for you?"

"Ah, the sister. Good. We have your brother's friends, Morgan Grimes and Anna Wu. They have not been harmed, for now. But unless we are able to speak with your brother, Chuck, within twenty-four hours, we cannot guarantee that will remain the case."

Carina squinted. "Chuck isn't here right now, but I'm sure he'll be back soon. Give me a number and I'll have him call you." There was a small chuckle at the other end of the line.

"I think we will call you… in awhile. I suggest that you have him waiting by the phone next time." There was a click and the call ended.

"Damn," Carina muttered, pressing the 'end' button.

"Uh, Carina?" Devon said quietly, behind her. She turned to him. "How did you know…" he asked, pointing at his hand in a pantomime of the phone in her own.

"Oh…" she said, reaching up to her ear and pulling out an earwig.

Devon raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

"Sorry," she apologized with false sincerity. "Occupational necessity."

_

* * *

Hampton __Inn, Medford, Oregon –__2:39AM PST_

The door opened and shut softly. Asleep on the near bed, Jill didn't realize he was in the room until the television turned off abruptly. Then, with a start, her eyes opened and she propped herself up on her elbows, searching the room and only finding Chuck.

"Sorry," Chuck said, "I didn't mean to wake you." He was rooting around in the drug store bag, searching for his toothbrush and other toiletries.

Jill watched him attentively, trying to discern his mood from his facial expressions and from the weary way that he pulled the items from the bag. His elation at Sarah's return was gone. Something had happened.

"I didn't think I'd be seeing you again, tonight," she said, casually. She turned her head in feigned disinterest, but kept her eyes glued to him.

Chuck paused briefly at her comment, then resumed his digging. After a few more seconds he appeared to have everything and started walking to the bathroom. When Jill saw he wasn't headed for the door, she called to him.

"Wait, Chuck… You're staying?"

He froze. Jill waited nervously for his reaction, unsure if he was going to reply or charge over to rip her head off.

Chuck let out a deep breath. "Yeah." He turned halfway, towards the bathroom, the light inside illuminating his face. Jill could tell he wasn't seeing the room at all, but somewhere beyond it.

"Where is she, Chuck?" Jill asked carefully.

He turned to her, his stare still unfocused. "Gone," he said, wistfully.

Jill's heart leaped. "What happened?"

Chuck's eyes focused and he seemed to see her for the first time since he'd returned. One by one, he put each of the items he carried down on the bathroom sink, then walked over to stand in front of her. He bore a calm and determined look on his face, one Jill had never seen on him before.

"Sarah was needed elsewhere. She told me her reasons and… I agree with them."

Jill nodded meekly. After a moment, Chuck's expression softened and he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Look… I need to stay here in Medford for a few days, it's not safe for me back in L.A."

She jumped at the opening. "That's what I've been trying to tell you, Chuck, you can't trust –"

Chuck held up his hand, giving her a withering look that stopped her cold. "Let me finish," he said.

She looked away, pursing her lips.

"My dad seems to trust you. And after your help with the truth serum and with Vincent this morning, I feel like I should give you a chance. I'm staying here and if you want, you can stay too. At least, until I head back to L.A."

"Of course, Chuck," she said, with a sympathetic look. "Your dad trusts me because he knows I really care about you." She reached out for his arm, but he pulled it away reflexively.

He stood up quickly to hide his discomfort and gave her an appreciative nod. "Thanks." Then he slowly turned and headed back towards the bathroom.

"Does Sarah know? That… I'm staying with you?" Jill called out, the enmity in her voice unmistakable.

Chuck paused, and his head turned slightly. "She knows," he said.

"And?"

Chuck looked her in the eye, his pupils dark orbs in the subdued light of the room.

"She trusts me."

_

* * *

McChord Air Force Base, Lakewood, Washington – 4:22AM PST_

Sarah stood on the tarmac in the specific spot she was told to by the ramp agent. She was tired and chilled to the bone by the frequent gusts of wind that blew out of the northwest. To her right, a gleaming white business jet with U.S. Air Force markings moved slowly down the taxiway in her direction. Despite the noise, she managed to hear the small voice emit from her cell phone.

"Casey? It's me, I'm on the flight line at McChord. Thanks, by the way." She strained to listen for the soft grunt and he didn't disappoint her.

"Where's Chuck?" he asked testily. "Moping around back at the hotel watching pay-per-view porn?"

Sarah sighed. It was time to come clean. "Casey, there's something I have to tell you. Chuck didn't get away on his own. His father's been helping him, as you know."

"Yeah, the elevator shaft you dropped Vincent down, etc, I get it. Are you saying that Orion's in Medford?"

"Not exactly. Orion has a new assistant. An operative he's recruited that can take actions in the field for him. It's this operative who broke Chuck free and it's who I left him with to protect him at the hotel."

"Well," Casey said after waiting for her to continue, "are you going to tell me or are you going to make me guess?" Sarah bit her lip, readying herself for the storm that was sure to follow.

"It's Jill Roberts," she said carefully.

There was a short pause.

"Are you out of your mother luvin' mind!" Casey yelled, enraged. "Jill freakin' Roberts? The same Jill Roberts that kidnapped Bartowski, almost compromised the National Intelligence database and, oh by the way, tried to _kill_ you! THAT Jill flippin' Roberts!"

Sarah winced. It was about what she'd expected, only louder. "Casey, I—"

"And you left Bartowski with that woman? Don't you remember the _last_ time we did that? 'Let's give Chuck a break,' you said. 'He's had a hard day,' you said. And the next thing you know, he's off the grid and Beckman's breathing fire down our necks – all 'cause the knucklehead couldn't keep it in his pants!"

The jet had arrived at its parking position and ramp agents were chocking the wheels.

"Casey—"

"Walker, I want you to get on that jet, tell them to fly you back to Medford, then go back to that hotel and slap some ankle chains and cuffs on that bi— grrr… fugitive and drag her ass back here to L.A. Do you hear me!"

Sarah sighed, counting out the seconds. She figured if she could get to five without Casey starting up again it might be safe to speak. Out on the tarmac, the jet's boarding ramp had begun to descend, and the ramp agent was signaling her to approach. She picked up her bag and started heading towards the plane.

"Are you done yet?" she asked, sardonically.

She heard nothing except the sound of frustrated breathing on the other side of the line.

"Look Casey, there's nothing I'd rather do more than drop Jill in a four by six hole and throw away the key. Even though she helped Chuck, I don't trust her around him and if I had a better idea I'd have used it. But in case you hadn't noticed, the rest of our _own_ team haven't exactly been dependable recently, and we just don't know how far we can trust any of them."

Casey's growling had lowered to an idle, which Sarah took to be a good sign. She handed her bag to one of the flight crew and started up the boarding ramp.

"The truth is, I was going to send him back to L.A., then have you stash him somewhere and hope for the best. But I changed my mind," she said.

"Why? That sounds like a hell of a lot better plan."

Sarah stood on the top step of the ramp, holding off the airman with a raised forefinger. "It was because of Chuck. He convinced me that he could handle Jill, that she wouldn't be able to manipulate him like she did before. And I believe him, Casey. He's not the same guy anymore. He's changed."

Casey snorted. "Are you sure it isn't _you_ that's changed? You'll forgive me if I'm having a tough time accepting your objective view on anything having to do with the Nerd."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Sarah complained.

"Do you need me to draw you a picture, Walker? I think you've gone way past the point of being compromised by the asset and I'm questioning your judgment here."

She sighed. "Casey, whatever there is between Chuck and I makes no difference to what I'm talking about. The Intersect 2.0 has affected him in a lot of ways," she explained. "I've seen some of them firsthand and so have you. But I think it's doing more than just giving him temporary skills. It's changing him. He's becoming stronger. More confident. I think he's more than a match for Jill now."

"We don't know what he can or can't do reliably yet," Casey retorted. "I think he's as big a danger to our own team as he is to the enemy. Did you forget about my nose?"

"But that's my point. If he can do that to you, imagine what he could do to Jill." Casey didn't argue. "And in any case, Chuck's dad is watching over him, so if there's any trouble they can't handle I'm sure he'll find a way to let us know."

The airman literally dragged Sarah on to the plane so he could pull up the boarding ramp. She noticed the plane was empty and she took the nearest seat.

"Casey, we need to trust Chuck. You know how I feel about him. If I'm willing to take this risk then maybe you can too."

Sarah waited for her partner's lava to cool. Sometimes it took awhile. "Casey?" she said, finally. "They're getting ready to taxi, I might lose the cell soon."

"This isn't going to end well, Walker," Casey said gravely. "Remember I said that."

Sarah exhaled loudly. It was not a particularly risky prediction.

"Before you go dark, I have some other news," Casey went on. "It seems that the bearded idiot and his Asian sex kitten have been abducted on Oahu. Carina took the call on Ellie's cell phone. They're threatening to off the pair of 'em if we don't put Chuck on a call with them inside of… about twenty hours."

Sarah closed her eyes and shook her head. Yet _another_ disaster. She pulled her thoughts together. "No, we can't do that. Chuck can't say no to Morgan. He'd be on a plane to Hawaii before we could blink."

"Tell me something I _don't_ know, Sherlock."

"And we can't use either agency's resources on the islands," Sarah continued. "Beckman would pick up on that in a heartbeat and wonder why we weren't inventing ridiculous excuses to go ourselves."

Casey thought hard about Hawaii. There was something about it… Suddenly a face popped into his head. He snorted hard and laughed.

"What?" Sarah asked him.

"Don't worry," he said knowingly, "I think I have the perfect person in mind to take care of it."

_

* * *

Wahiawa, Oahu – 12:36AM HAST_

The soft chime sounded from his pocket. Putting the spreading knife down, he fished around until he found his cell and pulled it out to look at the screen. Who'd be sending him a text at this time of night? If this was another prank call from one of those idiots at the plant, heads would roll.

At first, he didn't understand the message, it was just a pile of letters and numbers. Gibberish. The sender was unfamiliar to him as well, a raw ten-digit number instead of a photo from his contact list. He noticed the caller had the same last four digits that he had, 8-2-6-4 which caused him to snort derisively – they probably had no idea what those numbers represented. He was about to put the phone away and return to making his sandwich when he suddenly realized who might be calling.

He quickly checked the prefix: 6-7-2. Staring at his phone keypad, he matched up the numbers to the associated letters. 'N'… 'S'… 'A'.

_Oh my God_. It was his activation code. It had finally come, after nearly two years.

He raced to the study to turn on his computer. Soon, an encrypted email would come for him, and the strange text message would be the cipher key that let him decrypt it. And in the email, his first set of orders as a secret agent for his country.

He stuck out his chest proudly, turning back and forth as if he could see the crowds applauding him in admiration and thanks. Then he caught his own reflection in the window.

"AHHHH!"

Alarmed, he turned off the lights and creeped to the window, looking out nervously. He couldn't see anyone, but it paid to be cautious. They'd told him to be careful – there were eyes everywhere! Slowly, peering left and right through the narrowing slits, he closed the blinds.

_

* * *

Luxury Yacht Majestic__, just off Montauk NY – __Time Uncertai__n_

Chuck watched as two large men dragged a struggling captive backwards along the boat deck towards the rail. Vise-like grips bound his own arms, preventing him from moving, although he tried valiantly to break their hold. As he watched with anxiety, the large men passed him and he saw the face of their hostage.

It was Sarah.

She twisted and yanked at their grip, but they were too strong and her hands and legs were tied with rope.

"Sarah!" Chuck screamed, and her eyes snapped briefly to his. She sent him a look that he'd seen too many times before. One that told him to stay back, to save himself. That it was her job to protect him, not the other way around.

But that wasn't true anymore. With the new Intersect he had the power to turn the tables on these men. He could save her from them. He'd done it before, in the Intersect room. If he could only flash. He had to flash.

To his right, a new man appeared, flanked by two bodyguards. He was older, distinguished, dressed in a dark blazer and slacks. He passed Chuck on his way to the fantail, giving him a smile that sent a cold shiver down Chuck's back. He knew who this man must be. It was Arlen Jenks.

"Ah, our intruder, at last," the Senator said as he reached the group at the stern. "It took us longer than we expected to find you, and yet, here you are." He nodded and smiled, self-satisfied.

"The CIA knows I'm here," Sarah said. "If I don't make it back…"

Jenks laughed out loud. "They'll what? Will Colonel Casey tell General Beckman?" Jenks said mockingly. "Well, he'll tell her, she'll tell General Brady, he'll tell Secretary Gates and then Secretary Gates will tell me." He laughed. I guess when that happens, I'll have to think of an appropriate punishment for myself."

Sarah looked back at him, jaw clenched, her face simmering with hostility.

"No, I don't think that's sufficient disincentive for me to avoid doing what needs to be done." He pulled out a silenced pistol. "You've simply seen and heard too much to let you live." He pointed the pistol at Sarah. The men holding her tightened their grips, their faces turned away to avoid being sprayed with her blood.

Chuck began to flash the instant Jenks' pistol started to raise towards her. Without waiting for the flash to complete, he immediately put his foot on the rail behind him, leaned forward and kicked as hard as he could. Caught off guard, the men holding him lost their grip, and he broke free, shoulder rolling into a fighting crouch, his mind soaking in the Intersect's teachings and calculating his next move.

Jenks drew back, his aim spoiled, and moved to his right, putting some distance between himself and Chuck. The two bodyguards moved up, and Chuck soon faced them along with the two henchmen that had been holding him. Without hesitation, he feinted an attack on one, swiveled at the last second to take out the second with a devastating kick to the knee, then back-fisted the first in the forehead, knocking him to his knees.

Ducking below the third man's punch, he delivered a straight arm to the his solar plexus, forcing the wind from him. As the man staggered backward, the fourth henchman threw a round house punch which grazed Chuck's temple, but he rolled his face away in time and continued the motion into a back spin kick which he landed on the man's chin. He ended in a balanced stance, staring straight ahead, seeing the space in all directions around him. Only the two henchmen at the stern, holding Sarah, were left standing. And, of course, Jenks. He turned to him.

"Very impressive, Mr. Bartowski," Jenks said, in an acid tone. "I can see now why you've given us so much trouble the last two years. Here is my response." He raised his pistol towards Chuck, but just as the Intersect began calculating the best move for avoidance, Jenks suddenly turned his pistol towards the stern.

He fired twice.

Chuck spun quickly and saw Sarah, hunched forward, her face in shock. Two dark marks had appeared on her chest, and as he watched, they grew larger as the blood seeped into the fabric of her top.

"Sarah!" Chuck wailed, his face reflecting the agony he felt in his heart. Her eyes found his and in that split second they told him how sorry she was, about everything. How she wished they'd been able to have more. How she did, truly love him. And then they told him something he'd never expected to see and wasn't prepared to deal with. _G__oodbye_.

Overcome with rage, Chuck bolted for the stern, without reason or a thought to his own safety. Behind him, Jenks nodded his head sharply to the side, and the henchman lifted Sarah up by her arms and with a great effort heaved her over the rail and into the water.

"No!" Chuck screamed, sprinting past the two men and hurling himself without hesitation over the rail into the midnight sea beyond.

He swam around in all directions, his arms sweeping out to find her, desperately trying to make contact with anything solid. It was pitch black and he couldn't see a thing, but he had to find her. More and more frantically, he stabbed into the darkness, the cold biting into him, slowing him. He had to keep going. _Sarah, where are you__!__? _He screamed in his mind. _SARAH!_

_

* * *

Hampton __Inn, Medford, Oregon –__6:28AM PST_

"SARAH!" Chuck called out in the darkness, jerking upright in his bed, the covers askew.

Jill woke with a start and immediately turned the light on. "Chuck?" she called out. Seeing no threat in the room, she threw off her covers and went over to him. "Chuck, are you alright?" She reached out to put her hand on his arm, and this time he didn't pull away.

Chuck sat on the bed, his head in his hands. He was out of breath. "No. I'm not alright," he said morosely. "I should never have let her go alone."

Jill sighed and put on a sympathetic smile to cover her disappointment. "You were just having a nightmare. I'm sure she's fine."

Chuck turned to look at her, his eyes still carrying the anguish from the horrifying scene he had just envisioned. "No. No, I don't think so. The man who owns the boat… he's evil. She's in more danger than she realizes."

"Chuck, what man? What boat?" Jill entreated.

He looked at her, doubt clouding his eyes. She could see he wanted to talk but wasn't sure he could trust her.

She fixed him with her most earnest expression. "If you don't tell me, I can't help you." He turned away, and for a few moments Jill thought she'd failed to convince him.

But then, slowly, in halting steps, Chuck told her about Sarah's mission. About Jenks, the yacht, the Plutonium, the safe. Then he told her about the nightmare.

Afterward, they sat together, both of them sifting and sorting what they knew and furiously scheming through possible plans. But only one of them was aware that they were pursuing different agendas. Only one saw the disruptive opportunities presented by the situation. Only one saw that, at last, _she_ had something that the other desperately needed.

"Chuck?" Jill said, after a long period where neither of them had spoken.

He turned his head slightly towards her. "Yeah?"

"I think I can get us on that yacht."

Chuck's head snapped sharply over to look at her. "Really?" In his eyes, Jill suddenly saw the Chuck she once knew, the Chuck from their shared, distant past. The Chuck that would do anything for her, if she only asked. _And with a small bit of luck, would do so again_.

"Yeah, really," she said, with a big, Cheshire cat grin.

_

* * *

8__th__ Spec Ops Squadron MC-130E, 160 miles south of Montauk, NY, 22,500 ft – Friday, 1:15AM EST_

The yellow jump light came on above her, and Sarah stood to move into position near the ramp. She looked down to check the pressure on her oxygen tank for the third time in the last five minutes.

She was no longer nervous. She'd passed nervous two hours ago. Now, she waged a constant battle to keep her mind focused on the mechanics of the jump and on the details of her mission. It was important to keep looking forward; to fixate on the things she could control. She knew that if she stopped to consider the reality of what she was about to do for even a minute, the realization might prove paralyzing.

Beside her, the jumpmaster, a NCO who had won an impromptu contest back at Duke Field to take on this particular duty, grinned at her through his own mask as he gestured his way through the pre-jump checklist. She checked her harness straps and the secure positions for all of her gear, and when they were done she gave him a quick wink for his trouble. He returned an enthusiastic thumbs up and signaled the load master.

Through her feet, she felt the vibration as the ramp began to descend. There was a whistling roar from the slipstream and she felt the frigid air swirling around her as the narrow sliver of darkness at the aircraft's tail became a yawning mouth. She looked down the ramp and past it into the night. The black void beyond had no feature or detail to give it scale. It was a portal to nowhere.

A wave of doubt washed over her and she looked away from the emptiness and back into the aircraft. Around her, the guts of the Air Force transport lay in plain view, and while it wasn't the kind of place she'd normally call home, it was looking pretty cozy next to the blackness beyond the ramp. Her eyes drifted shut as she took even breaths, trying to steady her nerves.

She stood on a precipice above a great unknown, clinging tenaciously to what was familiar and yet compelled to leap into the abyss. Determined to take on a mission she wasn't fully prepared for and for which she had marginal intel. Compelled, not by a sense of duty, but by love. Her love for one man.

A leap of faith.

The irony was not lost on her. This also perfectly described her future with Chuck.

Roan would tell her that a mission like this was a loser; a ticket to a fresh star on the CIA Memorial Wall and an empty casket. And that if this was one of those missions, she should stay on the plane and ride it back to base. Only heroes took leaps of faith, and often those leaps took them to untimely ends. It was better, he'd say, to be a live coward than a dead hero.

Did she really _know_ what she was doing? Carina and Casey didn't think so. Was it possible she was the only one who couldn't see the truth? That the path she had put herself and Chuck onto would only end in tragedy or heartbreak?

She looked down at herself, clad in a wetsuit and jump gear, preparing to leap out of an airplane in the middle of the night to parachute onto a moving ship. Could Chuck ever truly love a woman who would do something like this?

With a snap and loud buzz, the green light lit and glowed brightly on the signal bar. It was time to go.

Taking a deep breath, she shook herself to loosen her muscles and clear her mind. Then she pulled down the night vision goggles, flipping them on and turning the world neon green. Jaw clenched, she started down the ramp at a slow trot until she reached the end.

There, with her eyes closed and without any hesitation, she leapt out into the total darkness.

_A/N: So, you're probably wondering WTH kind of ending that was. How could I, a reasonably nice guy, leave the next author with all of those plot threads dangling? Well, it was easy._

_I'm the next author._

_Yep, it's true. Due to the moderator's good graces and Sharpasamarble having to bow out, I asked for and was given the opportunity to do Chapter 14 as well. If you liked this story, this should be good news, since all the setup in this chapter will pay off in a rousing finish in the next. If you didn't, then my most profuse apologies, and hang on – MystLynx will be along in Chapter 15 to save the day._


	14. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes

_A/N: This is the conclusion to my two chapter epic. I hope you enjoy it. My earnest thanks goes out to Truthseekr, for plowing through all of this dense plot. In addition, she went the extra mile this time, helping me trim the overly ambitious story down to its basics. Her input is always valuable and appreciated. Whatever still isn't working in this chapter despite their heroic efforts is my fault, and mine alone._

_Also, I'd like to give special thanks to Timewalker and MySoapBox who agreed to allow this two-chapter format in the midst of the round robin._

CHUCK VERSUS THE TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE,

NO GOOD, REALLY BAD DAY

Chapter 14

by Aardvark

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes

_1200 feet above Majestic – Friday, 1:30AM EST_

Sarah pulled gently on the right toggle, nudging the canopy into a right turn and into the wind. It was crucial that she stayed ahead and upwind of the yacht. The vessel was making eighteen knots heading north-northwest into a six knot westerly crosswind, and she had less than two minutes of glide time. If she got too far south or east she'd never catch it again.

She turned again and headed back north over the boat. It felt like she was hovering, her ram-air chute having only a four mile-per-hour speed advantage. Below her, the _Majestic_ churned gracefully through the water, the yacht's immense length a luminous oasis on the pitch-black ocean. On the highest rear deck, a dark brown circle marked the helicopter pad – the best spot for her to land.

She made little curlicues, heading downwind for just a couple of seconds before reversing back into the wind, terrified she'd fall too far behind. _You can do this, Sarah._

She looked down again, estimating she had a couple hundred feet to go. The ship's white radio masts reached up for her, threatening to impale her chute. Clenching her stomach muscles, she made a tight turn over the bridge, flew downwind briefly on the leeward side of the masts, then pulled hard on the right toggle to turn back upwind about seventy feet above the helo deck and eighty feet behind it.

It was going to be tight.

Even as she closed on the helo platform it raced away from her, trying to deny her a perch and dump her onto deck two below, a deck cluttered with furniture and service equipment. That would be a painful and noisy landing.

The chute fluttered noisily in the headwind, increasing the drag and slowing her even further. Trying to stretch her glide as far as she could, she cheated to the right, surfing across the headwind instead of plowing straight into it.

_Closer… Closer…_

At the last possible moment she pulled down hard on both toggles and lifted her legs, but there wasn't enough clearance and her right shin caught the retractable rail. The impact sent her tumbling violently up into the harness, and she hit the deck on her left side, bouncing ungracefully for several feet before scraping to a stop.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, she forced herself up, yanking on the canopy lines to collapse the chute and gather it together quickly. She paused only momentarily to unsnap her holster – her fingers tapping the silenced S&W for reassurance. While her leg was killing her, and she was still fighting to stay focused, inside she was jubilant, exhilarated.

_She'd made it._

She was on the yacht and as far as she could tell, undetected. With the chute balled up under one arm she drew her pistol and made her way to the nearest hatch.

Two doors down and on the left, Sarah found a service closet. Venturing inside, her flashlight lit, she quickly found a canvas laundry bag and stuffed her chute in it. Searching further, she noticed a clipboard hanging by the doorway containing what looked like a grid of names and numbers. She grabbed it and began to flip through page after page. They were cabin service schedules for different ports of call: Miami… the Bahamas… Tortola… Barbados…

Wait a second, _Tortola_? That was where Casey said Iorga had last visited. She scanned through the list of occupants until she found the one she was looking for – 'Iorga, P.' – and checked for his room assignment: GC7.

Replacing the clipboard, she panned the flashlight beam around the interior of the closet until she found an outline map of the yacht. She poured over it carefully, tracing the path down the ladders to the main deck and then on to the row of guest cabins.

With a soft click, she turned off the flashlight.

_

* * *

Guest Cabin 7, Main deck, Majestic – Friday, 1:52AM EST_

Sarah entered cabin GC7 quietly through the unlocked door. Carefully closing it behind her, she stood just inside, unmoving, as her eyes adjusted to the dark. It was quiet, the only sound evident being the soft vibration from the boat. After a few seconds, she was able to make out furniture in the room: a desk, lamps, a painting… an empty bed. The room was unoccupied. Iorga had to be elsewhere, but considering the time of night that might not be for very long. She made her way quickly to the private bathroom and turned on the light.

Inside, she shed her backpack and unzipped it, digging out the cosmetics case and her baby-doll negligee. While trading her wetsuit and tactical gear for the see-through nightie accentuated her feeling of vulnerability, her training reminded her that this was the smart play. Alone, in hostile territory, incapacitating a mark silently was tricky business. It was best to go with her strengths, and she knew how she looked in this particular bit of nightwear. _Guaranteed to produce at least ten seconds of speechlessness_, she smirked. It would be more than enough.

Hurriedly, she applied fresh lipstick and cover-up for her forehead wound. She looked down. The dull ache from her right shin was now accompanied by a spreading discoloration. She dabbed some of the cover-up on the bruise. It didn't have to be flawless – it just had to pass until she could turn a passionate embrace into an indefensible chokehold.

With a sudden start, she heard the sound of erratic footsteps approaching the door. Flipping off the light, she leapt onto the bed, adjusting herself into an alluring pose and smoothing out her nightie in the darkness. Her quick mental checklist came up two items short – she hadn't had time to put on her knives, and the knockout spray, her emergency fallback, was still in her pack. _ No time to cry over spilt milk_.

As the door opened, she took a deep, relaxing breath and manufactured a sultry smile. She locked her gaze on to the part of the shadow where the mark's eyes should appear and waited for the house lights to signal the start of her performance.

The man entered the cabin, closing the door behind him. He took a cautious step forward, but then he paused suddenly, as if sensing someone's presence. He backed slowly to the door and his hand reached out, making soft tapping noises as he felt for the light switch. Sarah refreshed her smile.

The light came on, and when she saw him, feelings of surprise, recognition, and dismay burned through her in rapid succession. The man in front of Sarah was not the Romanian Colonel she had been preparing to seduce and interrogate.

He was Peyman Alahi – international financier, former owner of the Nadani-Noor diamond, recent escapee from Agua Caliente SuperMax prison, and, as Chuck had once astutely observed…

Wookie.

_

* * *

Two miles south of Kawela Bay, Oahu – Thursday, 3:56PM HAST_

When the strange noises started coming from other parts of the estate, Morgan and Anna were already together. Anna was sitting on a chaise lounge with Morgan's head in her lap; he was asleep and drooling onto her shorts.

"Wake up, Morgan!" She shook him, anxiously.

He raised his head, groggily. "What? Is Chuck here?"

She gave him an annoyed look. "No, Morgan. We're in Hawaii, remember?" Her eyes turned to the house, where more sounds of violent struggle could be heard. "Something's happening."

Morgan sat up just as the door opened and the mountain of a man that was Hu's bodyguard stepped through it. His expression was crazed, his eyes wide and his mouth warped into an unpleasant scowl. He looked like he was mad enough to kill someone. Morgan felt panic grip him and he stood up, dragging Anna with him.

"Uh, dude… I'm sure we can work something out," he said, holding up his palms in surrender.

The man just glowered at them, his anger growing even more intense at the sound of Morgan's faltering voice. Closing gradually, his chest rising and falling visibly with each ragged breath, the bodyguard advanced towards them. Huddled together, they backed away in small, measured steps.

"Look," Morgan pleaded, "I've… I've got a nearly full set of Star Wars collectible figures you can have… oh, wait, dammit. I left those with Ellie for safekeeping…" Morgan felt Anna turn to give him a dirty look and he furiously scoured his brain for something else to say. "Hold on… I have this set of totally incredible Ginsu knives that I got as a present –they're brand new…"

The man was almost upon them. Anna stopped backing up and Morgan realized there was nowhere to go but into the pool.

"…and they're all yours!" Morgan finished plaintively, putting both of his arms around Anna and gripping her fiercely. "Just… please, don't hurt us."

The huge bodyguard stopped, and they held their breaths. Suddenly his face contorted horribly, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a fearsome grimace. He bellowed a loud, anguished yell as his arms flew outward, fists clenched and shaking.

Morgan and Anna both screamed.

And then the bodyguard tilted slowly towards them and fell forward onto his face with an enormous thud. Behind him stood a short, bald man, brandishing a silver cattle prod, its two shiny electrodes still flashing and sputtering.

"Harry Tang?" Morgan asked, incredulous.

Harry glared down defiantly at the unconscious bodyguard. "Mess with the bull, you get the horns!"

"I can't believe it," Anna smirked, shaking her head.

Morgan stepped forward tentatively. "What are you doing here?"

Harry looked up at him with a sneer. "Grimes," he said, in a way usually reserved for words like 'maggots' or 'roaches'. "You could have gotten out of this yourself, if you weren't soft," he poked Morgan's belly with his index finger, "like pudding." He stared with contempt at Morgan for a few more seconds, then grunted dismissively and pointed at the door with his prod.

Grabbing Anna's hand, Morgan wasted no time getting out of there.

_Guest Cabin 7, Main deck, Majestic – Friday, 1:58AM EST_

"Well, well… It seems as though our host has anticipated my every need," Peyman said in a smarmy tone. He began to advance towards the bed, a leering smile on his face.

Sarah's mind was racing. Her eyes took in Alahi, clad only in a towel around his waist and a gold chain around his neck. If she could just get him close enough she might be able to take him out before he could raise an alarm. She giggled softly and wiggled her shoulders.

"First, the hot tub. And now this…" Peyman said, his intonation almost musical. "I'll have to thank the Senator personally for…" He stopped, halfway to the bed.

_What was he doing?_ Sarah giggled again, trying to distract him from whatever had given him pause and bring him closer.

"Wait… I _know_ you…" Peyman said, his brow furrowing. Sarah's smiled faded and she tensed her muscles to leap towards him, but before she could move, he pulled a gold-plated Desert Eagle from the back of his towel. Sarah froze.

"Stay very, very still," he advised her. "You have caused me quite a bit of trouble, young lady. _Quite_ a bit of trouble." Alahi smiled coldly at her. "But no more, I should think." He picked up the cabin phone and began to dial.

With an athletic grunt, Sarah rotated her hips and swung her left leg up in a vicious kick that drove her foot into Peyman's cheek. As his head slammed into the bulkhead, she dove forward, grabbing his right wrist and pulling his arm around her in one quick motion. Putting her thumb under the pistol's trigger to keep it from firing, she drove her shoulder into his and smashed him down to the deck beneath her.

Alahi cried out in pain, writhing under her. She bent the big pistol against his thumb and stripped it from his grip, then drove her left elbow into his solar plexus, quelling his resistance and leaving him gasping for breath.

"Tell me where Petru Iorga is," she demanded, "and why you're in his room."

Alahi glared up at her, stubborn and prideful. "You are… very resourceful," he said, still breathing raggedly, "but I don't feel… very generous… toward you… at the moment." Alahi coughed and grinned faintly at her through his discomfort. "Find your answers elsewhere."

Sarah noticed his eyes moving down to her chest and she felt a rush of anger. She gripped his neck with her left hand and aimed the gun at Alahi's groin. "Tell me what I want to know right now or this just became your last attempt at foreplay."

Peyman's grin dropped immediately. "You won't fire that in here," he said, knowing that the sound would bring security to his room.

"No, I won't," Sarah admitted. "But…" she said, hefting the weight of the huge pistol, "this thing makes a pretty good hammer and I think I see a nail that needs pounding back down."

_

* * *

Kamehameha Highway, Oahu – Thursday, 4:04PM HAST_

With Harry Tang at the wheel, the Lincoln Town Car sped down the twisty, coastal highway, pursued by a Chevy Impala full of Triad gang members nearly twenty car lengths behind. Each time he looked back in the rear view mirror, Harry could see the car getting steadily closer. He pushed down even harder on the accelerator.

"Harry! What're you doing, man!" Morgan yelled as the car skidded dangerously close to the cliff edge. "You're going to get us killed!"

Harry scoffed. "That's AGENT Tang to you, Grimes! Agent Tang of the NSA!"

Morgan and Anna stared at each other, dumbfounded. Then, slowly, grins spread to both their faces and they began to laugh uproariously.

"Seriously?" Anna said.

Harry wasn't pleased. "That's funny to you, huh? Maybe not so funny if I stop the car and let you out!"

They quickly muted their laughter. "No, Harry, we're sorry," Morgan replied. "It's just that if there _were_ a NSA agent at the Buy More I would have picked, oh, I dunno… John Casey, maybe."

"Or someone really intelligent, like Chuck," Anna added.

Harry scowled. "Small potatoes, they're just small potatoes," he muttered back to them. _I'm the big potato_.

He rounded a sharp bend and suddenly his eyes grew wide as an idea occurred to him. Slamming on the brakes, he held the wheel steady while the car fishtailed to a stop. He looked back over his shoulder, gauging the distance to the apex.

"What are you doing?" Morgan cried. "They're right behind us!"

"Counting on it," Harry said, as he shifted into reverse and gunned the engine. The Town Car quickly picked up speed, the engine screaming as it roared back uphill toward the corner. Anna looked behind her at the rapidly approaching guardrail and then turned a terrified expression on the little bearded man next to her.

"Morgannnnnn!" she screamed, just as the Triad vehicle rounded the corner behind them. Morgan threw his arms around her and an instant later there was a huge crash as the Town Car's trunk rammed into the left front fender of the Impala, deflecting it to the right and sending it through the guardrail and over the cliff. The Lincoln rebounded from the impact, skidding sideways to a stop.

"Hah!" Harry threw up his fist in triumph. "Let that be a lesson! No one beats Harry Tang!"

Morgan and Anna winced at Harry's exclamation as they looked out their window and over the cliff. "Uh, Harry, I don't think they're going to be learning much of anything anymore."

Harry leaned over and looked out the passenger-side window, managing to catch the last part of the Chevy as it sank below the waves.

"Uh… yeah," he agreed, reluctantly.

Not knowing what else to say in the awkward silence, Harry put the car back into drive and sped off down the hill.

_

* * *

Service access hatch, Majestic – Friday, 4:36AM EST_

In the pre-dawn darkness, Sarah put her auto-floatation device around Peyman Alahi's neck and wrestled the harness around his shoulders. Unconscious from the knockout spray, he was dead weight and hard to maneuver in the narrow passageway. When, at last, it was finally secure, she pulled the activation cord and it inflated instantly.

She pulled a small, plastic cylinder from her pocket, looped its strap around the floater harness and broke the seal. Once immersed, the dye-pack would spread a yellowish cloud in the water that would be visible from the air for miles. During the day, anyway.

With a laborious heave, she shoved Alahi over the hatch coaming and into the water. She watched as his head bobbed upright, held above the surface by her floater. He quickly drifted behind and away in the boat's wake.

_Hope there's no hungry fish in there looking for breakfast_, she grinned darkly. Reaching down, she picked up and tossed Alahi's robe into the water after him. She'd put the hairy bastard into the water naked.

Sarah pulled her sat-phone from her belt and set it for burst mode operation. She didn't know if they'd detect her mil-spec transceiver if she tried a voice call, but judging from the communication arrays on the yacht's masts, she didn't want to take the chance. She keyed in a short text message:

PCKUP FLOATR THSE COORDS, DYE PAK, HRRY OR FSH FUD.

She grinned, knowing Casey would love it.

His acknowledgement came quickly, along with bonus news:

PINAPPLS RSCUED. FLM 11. PLUS…

She suppressed a laugh. At least Morgan and Anna were safe for now, although she still wasn't sure how Casey had managed it. She waited for the rest of the text. It turned out to be a cornucopia.

IORGA FND DEAD IN BVI LAST KNWN LOC. TMMY & LZZY NOW ROGUE.

Sarah stared at the message. The first part was clearly helpful – it explained why Iorga hadn't needed his cabin, if not how Alahi had managed to restore enough of his former status to warrant occupying it. But there was something more important, something her intuition was urgently trying to tell her.

The two items were related in a way she knew Casey probably couldn't see. Maybe Tommy and Lizzie weren't the only former Fulcrum agents to go rogue. Maybe La Ciudad had been rogue too. And if her ambitions towards nuclear blackmail didn't line up with the Ring's, then the Ring would take steps to stop her and anyone else intending to create a bomb. Like, for instance, killing the seller of the fissionable material. Had Iorga been intending to sell the enriched Plutonium in Tortola?

The answer dangled a very enticing possibility in front of her, and she knew she couldn't leave the yacht without at least taking a look inside Jenks' safe. She had a hunch. As she worked through the implications to her planned egress, another message appeared:

DNT SCREWUP.

Her pinched expression dissolved into a warm grin. Casey didn't use many words, but he managed to say a lot with the ones he chose. He was worried about her, but he wouldn't say it. She keyed in:

LV U 2. TTYL.

She smirked and turned off the phone. It was amazing how much things had changed between her and Casey in the last few weeks.

She checked her watch as she stifled a yawn. It had been an incredibly long day but she couldn't leave before sunrise as she'd planned. Instead, she needed to hole up for awhile until she could locate Jenks' safe and the best place to do that was Alahi's cabin.

Sarah carefully closed the service hatch cover and made her way back towards main deck.

_

* * *

Aft Helo Deck, Majestic – 5:44AM EST_

The steadily loudening sound of rotor blades finally resolved into the shape of a descending helicopter that touched down gracefully and efficiently on the illuminated platform. As the pilot cut the throttle and the turbine whined down, the back door popped open and the men waiting on the platform's periphery rushed forward to assist the helo's sole passenger.

Arlen Jenks stepped down onto the deck, carrying a gym bag and a small briefcase. He handed the bags to a nearby crewman and shook hands with the captain, who gestured towards the open hatch behind them. With polite smiles, the entourage made its way through the hatch and down the subsequent ladder towards the main passageway.

Two decks below, propped up with several pillows on an otherwise unoccupied guest bed, an exhausted CIA agent had drifted unexpectedly asleep, dreaming blissfully of a certain brown-eyed nerd and an uncharacteristically energetic hallway reunion.

_

* * *

ATM booth, Lynbrook, NY – 7:04AM EST_

Jill was quiet, even aloof this morning, Chuck thought. She hadn't spoken, other than to narrate what they needed to do and in what order. Something seemed to have changed since the night before but he didn't spend a lot of time trying to figure out what it was. Chuck had never had very much luck predicting what Jill was thinking.

He'd told her he needed to grab some cash, and she'd found this Bank of America ATM booth for him. She even waited in the car while he went in. But it really wasn't about money. It was about information. He simply couldn't stand not knowing if Sarah was okay, even for one more minute. And though he knew what calling Casey would probably mean, not calling would be infinitely worse.

So he dialed.

Less than a minute into the conversation, the dreaded question finally came. Chuck meekly admitted that he was no longer in Medford, Oregon, but was actually a whole lot closer to Long Island, New York. He winced as the yelling that ensued threatened to explode the disposable cell phone. It went on for a full minute before he could get a word in edgewise.

In the end, he'd managed to ask about Sarah, and Casey told him about their early morning texts. Knowing that she'd made it on to the yacht in one piece, and was free to communicate with them when necessary relieved his worries immensely, but not completely. Casey mentioned that Sarah was supposed to be off the yacht by now, but had yet to contact him. Something could still have gone very wrong.

Chuck promised he'd rendezvous with Sarah the moment she made contact and that he'd 'stay the hell away' from Montauk. Listening to Casey as he bellowed orders at him, he wondered if Casey knew just as well as he did that he wasn't going to obey them.

When he hung up, he noticed a surveillance camera pointing at him from the ceiling of the booth. Reflecting on past events, Chuck decided to take a chance.

"I need your help," he began, staring into the camera's lens. "Sarah hasn't checked in, and she's overdue. I'm worried something might have happened to her." He gave a final pleading look, then let his eyes fall to the floor. As he turned to leave the booth, the cell phone rang in his hand.

"Hello?"

"I might be able to help. Just give me a little time." Orion's electronically-altered voice was unmistakable.

"I appreciate that," _Dad,_ Chuck wanted to add the last word but he knew better given his location. He was also unsure as to whether to open the topic that had been monopolizing his thoughts for the last couple of days.

"I'll get word to you if I find out something, but for now –"

"Wait… There's something else I need to talk to you about," Chuck started, hesitantly.

There was silence at the other end, and Chuck decided to plunge ahead.

"It's about Jill and Sarah…"

_

* * *

Helicopter deck, U.S.S. Hawes (FFG-53), 130 miles Southeast of Montauk, NY – 7:17AM EST_

With a loud crack and a sickening grinding sound, the rotor hub assembly on the Seahawk failed, causing two of the opposing blades to revert to zero pitch and dropping the helo like a rock the final fifteen feet onto the frigate's deck with an enormous crash. On impact, the port side gear collapsed and the rotors made contact with the deck, splintering loudly and flinging pieces into the sea.

After what seemed like forever but was only about eight seconds, the shaking motion finally stopped.

Inside, the crew checked with each other, and finding no one injured began to secure the equipment and get the doors open for the rescue crew. In the passenger cabin, the hospital corpsman checked on their sole charge, the heavily waterlogged and extremely hirsute middle-eastern man they'd plucked out of the ocean twenty minutes ago.

Luckily for the pruned sasquatch, nothing had fallen on him and he seemed to be in decent shape, which – the corpsman guessed – was more than he could say about the helo.

_

* * *

Cabin GC7 , aboard the Majestic – 9:25AM EST_

The maid knocked on the cabin door for the fourth time. "It's housekeeping, Mr. Iorga," she said repeatedly. There was no response.

After she waited what she assumed to be a reasonable amount of time, she pulled out her pass key and opened the door a crack. "Housekeeping!" she announced again.

Hearing nothing, she opened the door and looked around. There didn't seem to be anyone in the room, so she wheeled in her service cart and began a general inspection.

The occupant was a pig.

The bed was thoroughly tossed, with sheets and blankets pulled loose and balled up. The lamp on the bed stand was broken and there was a dent in the wall. Debris littered the floor. She sighed and began to work on the bed.

As she pulled the covers off, she noticed something bright and lavender colored underneath – a lace nightie. With raised eyebrows, she picked it up and stretched it out in front of the light coming from the outside ports. The view didn't change that much. She shook her head. The garment was not really intended for sleeping. She walked to the desk and laid it across the chair back.

On her way back, she became aware of a new sound – running water. Suddenly alerted to the fact that the cabin was occupied, she straightened her posture and with renewed formality knocked on the bathroom door.

"Housekeeping!" she called, loud enough to be heard above the shower. For a few moments, there was no sound other than the water splashing on the tile.

Then, through the door, she heard the sound of a young woman giggling, and thumps that sounded like someone hitting the side of the shower stall. When the low moans began, the maid stepped back quickly and rolled her eyes.

"I'll just make the bed for now and come back later, okay Mr. Iorga?" She didn't wait for a reply nor was she really expecting one. Working briskly, she finished the bed in under two minutes and quickly wheeled her cart out the door, letting it slam shut behind her. It was not a particularly subtle way of expressing her opinion, but it got the point across.

A few seconds later, the bathroom door cracked slightly, revealing a furrowed brow and one sapphire-blue eye.

_

* * *

Berth 1A, Montauk Yacht Club – 4:42PM EST_

In tow behind Jill, Chuck cut through the long line of limousines queued up to unload their passengers at the pier. He nearly tripped several times as she pulled him towards the foot of the gangplank, where other partygoers were milling about as they waited to be screened for identities and weapons. His problem wasn't a sudden bout of clumsiness. It was just that he couldn't stop looking up at the yacht.

Awed by its colossal size, he almost stumbled over Jill when she stopped in front of him. He looked down at her just as she slipped the diamond ring onto the third finger of her left hand.

His heart stopped.

It was _the_ ring. The one he'd given her at her parent's house. The one he'd left with her at the Fulcrum recruiting facility. The one that was supposed to fund her escape. For some reason, she still had it.

"Jill…" he gasped, "what are you doing?"

She was slow to look up at him, her eyes lingering on the sparkling gem. "What do you mean? We're supposed to be engaged, remember?"

Before he could respond, his cell phone trilled, and anxious that it might be Sarah, he pulled it out quickly to check the screen:

S STILL ABOARD – O

With wide eyes, Chuck deleted the message. It was just what he feared. Something _was_ wrong. Images of churning dark water behind the ship popped into his head and he pushed them away. _No, she was still __aboard_. His father had just said so, and Orion was usually right. In the midst of his furious concentration, he only dimly realized that he was standing at the top of the gangplank and that someone was reaching his hand out to him.

"…is my fiancé, Charles." Jill finished, smiling sweetly.

Chuck stuck out his hand and looked upon an unfamiliar face.

"Arlen Jenks. Welcome aboard, Charles," he said. Chuck froze for a moment, trying to reconcile the man from his dreams with the one standing before him. This man didn't look evil, just weathered and… dignified, somehow. If it was possible that someone was worthy of owning a boat like this, then this man was that kind of someone. They shook hands.

"It's nice to meet you, sir," Chuck greeted, still half in a daze. Jill noticed and jumped to the rescue.

"My grandfather told me how happy he was that the Ministry was able to assist your last campaign," she interjected.

"And a great help he was, my dear," Jenks gushed politely, turning to her. "Please extend my sincere thanks to Oren when you next see him." Jenks extended his arm to the left, as he had with the previous guests. "Now, if you'll follow this nice lady, she'll give you a tour of the Majestic and get you setup with some refreshments." He smiled at them briefly, then turned his attention to the next arrivals.

And just like that, they were in.

_

* * *

Deck 2 forward, Majestic –7:29PM EST_

Jill hovered at the periphery of the circle of people around Arlen Jenks. She'd prepared a retinue of things to say to stall him in case he appeared to be leaving the party. Talking points she could use to stall him if need be, giving Chuck time to search Jenks' room.

It was there that she had suggested Sarah would be, trying to find a way into Jenks' safe. At least, that's what she'd told Chuck. But she was pretty sure she knew Sarah's real plan. It was something Jill would have considered as well. Cutting the head off the snake. Going for Checkmate in one turn. It was the only gain that justified all of this risk. And if she could keep Chuck nearby until Sarah killed Jenks, he'd finally see everything clearly. He'd realize that Sarah wasn't just his pretty, blonde protector, but a woman capable of pre-meditated, cold-blooded murder. A woman that he could never truly love.

Sneaking a glance, she saw Jenks talking down into the pile of people at someone fairly short who she couldn't see. While she watched, the heads began to move around him and he was nodding and gesturing toward the nearest hatchway. He was leaving.

Jill set an intercept course and successfully navigated to the point where Jenks and his companion would emerge from the small crowd, but as the people thinned out she finally saw who he was escorting. Eyes wide, she aborted her pursuit – turning aside at the last second under the pretense of spotting a friend at the rail. She walked away briskly, checking behind her only when she'd felt sure she'd pulled off the escape. They were gone.

Thinking quickly, she found her cell phone and tried to dial Chuck, but there were no signal bars on the display. She turned to the rail. There was no land in sight, anywhere. No land meant no cell towers, and that meant no calls.

Frantic, she moved towards the door as briskly as she could without drawing attention. If she could trail them, she might be able to help somehow.

_

* * *

Jenks' cabin, Majestic – 7:33PM EST_

"Hello?" Chuck called out.

He entered the cabin nervous, spooked. The room was large, with multiple connected areas. In front of him lay a sitting area with a standup bar, and further in he could see a study with shelves and a desk. Moving forward, he checked the bulkheads for paintings large enough to hide a safe, or breaks in the surface that might hide a secret compartment.

As he passed an ornate fireplace and peered into the darkened study, a hand suddenly went over his mouth and another gripped his chest from behind. Startled, he screamed into it and tried to turn, but the arm around him was strong. And yet, somehow, very familiar.

When he stopped yelling the arm encircling him relaxed and he spun around, just in time for the hand covering his mouth to be replaced by a pair of sweet lips surrounded by a halo of blonde hair.

_Sarah_.

He threw his arms around her and, still kissing her, pulled her to him emphatically. With grasping arms and soft sounds they lost the next minute wrapped in each other.

While it was the growing pressure from Sarah's hands that forced Chuck, at last, to pull back, it was he who spoke first.

"I was so worried about you," he panted between breaths.

"Chuck, what are you doing here? How did you even get on board! And where's Jill? Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to be here!" The rapid questions poured out of her in a cascade of concern and frustration.

Chuck stared at her, soaking in her closeness and trying not to grin from hearing the sound of her voice.

"CHUCK!" she whispered harshly, trying to jar him from his trance.

He blinked. "Sorry… I – we thought you might still be here looking for the safe, and I can help with that," He put a finger to his temple and tapped.

Sarah's eyes darted over his face. "So Jill's here too?"

"Yeah," Chuck said dismissively. "Look, we can cover all of that later. Have you found it?"

"Not yet…" Sarah said, less than convincingly. "I.. I wasn't in this room very long before you got here. Maybe we can split up and go over it in more detail?" Chuck nodded.

Letting go of Sarah reluctantly, he turned back to face the sitting area and began to search the bulkhead more closely. Sarah moved back to the bar area and examined the wine rack. As Chuck got to the fireplace again, he felt the familiar pressure in his forehead and the telescoping of his vision. With no nearby hand holds, he put both of his hands on his knees and tried to remain upright as the burst of images roared through his mind. The flash made it pretty clear: _The fireplace was the safe_.

He came out of it, his breathing heavy and wobbly in his balance. "Sarah?" he called, a hoarse whisper all he could manage. When there was no reply he looked up.

That's when he noticed that the door to the cabin was open, and a couple of people were standing just inside the entrance, staring at him.

"Charles? Is that you?" It was Arlen Jenks. He was still dressed as before, in his dark blue sweater and open collared dress shirt. With nothing to say on his own behalf, Chuck turned his gaze toward Jenks' companion.

She was dressed in a jade green cocktail dress which set off her red hair and lipstick perfectly. With pale gold jewelry and makeup, and holding a Cosmo in one hand, the small woman almost passed for someone else. Someone Chuck might not have recognized had she not suddenly changed her expression to a fearsome scowl that he knew all too well. One that he'd seen on an almost weekly basis for the last two years.

It was General Beckman.

The awfulness of the moment rendered Chuck speechless.

"Are you alright?" Jenks asked, noting Chuck's expression. Chuck stared at them blankly, his jaw open.

"Uhh…" Chuck said, his wide eyes flicking over to Beckman. She'd seen through his five day beard immediately and was beyond livid. Her face had flushed to nearly the color of her hair, and Laszlo's laser sharks had nothing on the beams blazing from her eyes.

Jenks took in where Chuck was standing and his eyes narrowed. "Can I ask you what you're doing in here?"

"Uhh…" Chuck began again, unable to think of any reasonable explanation for his presence.

"He was looking for me." The calm and familiar female voice didn't come from behind him, as he'd expected, but from the open door to the passageway.

Jenks and Beckman spun around to find Jill Roberts standing in the doorway.

Chuck had thought things couldn't get any worse, but he was wrong. He watched the General's head jerk back as she recognized Jill, then turn to him with an incredulous expression on her face. _Oh boy_. He started wondering how many years he was going to spend in jail before he was mercifully moved to an underground bunker for the rest of his natural life.

Jill smiled at Jenks. "I told Charles that I was going to speak with you, and I guess when we got separated at the party he assumed I was coming here." Chuck knew his cue.

"Yeah," he forced a smile, "I thought she'd be here."

Jenks looked back and forth between the two of them, an odd expression on his face. Then he smiled at Jill. "I'm a bit busy at the moment, dear. How about we talk later?"

"Sure, I'd like that," Jill agreed, then turned to Chuck. "C'mon, Charles, you still owe me a dance." She winked at him, suggestively. He began to move towards the door, but then he hesitated – Sarah was still trapped somewhere in the room.

"Come on," Jill prompted, the veiled urgency in her voice unmistakable.

Beckman glared at him with the most malevolent scowl he had ever seen. "Yes, _Charles_… you wouldn't want to miss your chance for a_ last dance_, would you?"

With a loud gulp, Chuck reluctantly edged past Jenks and the General and let Jill drag him out the door and down the passageway.

When they'd left, Beckman turned to Jenks. "Arlen, I've got to check in with my adjutant back at home base, would you mind if I borrowed your secure SATCOM equipment for a few minutes?"

Jenks nodded and reached for his cabin phone. "Of course. I'll have one of the techs come down and escort you to the communications center."

_

* * *

Main passageway aft, Majestic – 7:42PM EST_

"What was that all about back there?" Jill asked, dragging Chuck by his arm down the long corridor.

Chuck looked at her with a puzzled expression. "What was what?"

"The _getting caught_, Chuck. Are you still thinking you're cut out to be a spy? Didn't you hear them coming? " Jill was nearly ranting now, and obviously furious with him.

"I…" he paused in frustration. Jill didn't know about the Intersect and he wasn't going to tell her his flash had incapacitated him at exactly the wrong time.

"And now Beckman knows I'm on board – there's a good chance she'll have agents in place to take me into custody when I leave the yacht." She came to a sudden stop and turned to face him. "What were you going to do if I hadn't shown up? Excuse yourself to go to the little boys room?"

Chuck glared at her. "No, I don't believe that would have been necessary," he said caustically. "Sarah was there." Jill blanched.

"She was in the room?"

"Yeah. I'm sure she'd have come up with something. You just beat her to it."

Jill's mind seemed to race over what Chuck had told her. "You talked to her? Did she find the safe?"

"Not yet," Chuck informed her, "but I did. Just before Jenks and Beckman interrupted. I didn't have time to tell her, but I think she'll figure it out."

Jill studied his face carefully for a moment, and then took his arm and continued guiding him towards the rear of the ship. "C'mon Chuck. It's a lot less crowded on the other end of the boat, and there's something I need to tell you. About Sarah."

_Great__, __the fantail_. A feeling of dread came over him. Fate seemed determined to make him relive the nightmare he wished desperately to forget.

_

* * *

Castle – 8:14PM EST_

"Colonel Casey." The voice on the phone call was Beckman's.

Casey knew from the start that something was very wrong just by the tone in her voice. Without thinking, he stood up at attention immediately, knocking the roller chair he was sitting on backwards into the conference table.

"Yes, General!" he said crisply.

"I've just had the most unpleasant experience of running into the Human Intersect on board Arlen Jenks yacht," Beckman whispered fiercely. "And while I may not be one-hundred percent current with daily changes to the world map, I'm still fairly certain that Oregon does not border on the Atlantic Ocean!" She finished in a virulent flurry.

"No, ma'am!" Casey said through a wince.

"Now I haven't been able to get through to Agent Walker, but if I know the two of you – and I do – she's not going to be too far from Bartowski, which means she's on this yacht as well. Is my assumption correct, Colonel?"

Casey hesitated, for just a second, but it was enough.

"That's what I thought," Beckman continued. "Of all the stupid, reckless… _blonde_ things to do. In the entire time this team has existed, this may be the single biggest screw-up you've ever committed – your crowning achievement."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, regretting the moment he'd first heard the names Walker, Bartowski and Larkin.

"What part of 'absolutely not' and 'you'll have to find a different way' did you two _not_ understand! If this blows up in all of our faces, I promise you that it will be the two of you who suffer the consequences. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"

"Yes, General. I understand completely." Casey pulled at the collar of his shirt, letting cooler air reach his neck. _Was it still sixty-eight degrees in here?_

"Now, since you failed to let me in on the details of your little adventure, what are Walker and Bartowski doing on this yacht? Are they trying to interrogate Arlen Jenks?"

"No ma'am," Casey assured her. "The Plutonium trail ended with a man who should've been on the yacht but was found dead instead. Walker's just collecting intelligence and artifacts. That's all."

There was a silence. Casey waited it out, sweating silently.

"One last thing, _Major_ Casey," she said, emphasizing his reduction in rank very noticeably, "And if I were you I'd consider my answer to this question very carefully."

Casey gulped. "Ma'am?"

"Do you know the present whereabouts of Jill Roberts?"

Casey shut his eyes. _Oh shit_.

_

* * *

Arlen Jenks' cabin, Majestic – 8:19PM EST_

Jenks stood deathly still, staring at the fireplace and seemingly lost in thought.

It was the perfect time to strike.

Sarah crouched behind the bar, breathing steadily faster and tensing her muscles, pumping adrenaline for a blitz attack that would take him out. She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth, stoking the feral instinct that amplified her effectiveness. Once she choked him unconscious, she'd inject Paine's Pentothal derivative and in six to eight hours the Ring would be without one of its key officers – if not its leader.

Conveniently left behind among the guests who could conceivably have concocted and applied this poison was a certain doctor of biochemistry – a person whose last minute attendance would unquestionably draw attention in the furor surrounding the unexplained death of a U.S. Senator. A woman who was _already_ a fugitive from the law. It was a nearly perfect plan, except…

She couldn't bring herself to execute it.

And it had nothing to do with sparing Jill Roberts.

Hovering on the precipice of action, a conflict raged within her. Two paths, their destinations cloudy, stretched away into the future.

If she chose the first path, she would do this thing, this necessary evil, and then wash away the doubts and uncertainty along with the blood. It would be just as it had been with Lon Kirk – and just as it had been countless times before. It would be one more ounce of blackness in her soul, one more terrible act she'd bury deeply and hope to never think about again.

If she chose the other, however, she could no longer accept the justifications for actions like this. It would no longer be enough to blindly kill or torture for the common good. Not based on her judgment alone, and certainly not solely based on the orders of a bureaucrat sitting in a desk back in Washington. Choosing this path would probably be the end of her career as a field operative.

But it was the only one compatible with her new family and her very real relationship with Chuck. Of that, she had little doubt.

With calm deliberation, she exhaled slowly and quietly, willing herself to relax. There would be no assassination today, at least, not by her. A large burden seemed to be lifted from her shoulders and she let them sag, stretching her neck from side to side. There was a small, audible pop from her spine. She froze.

Jenks head turned slightly. "I know you're there." He turned around. "If you stand up right now we can have a little talk before I call security."

Cursing her own body, Sarah took a deep breath, set herself, then stood up gracefully. When he saw her in her black wetsuit and jump gear, his eyes popped open wide.

"Hmm… I'm thinking you didn't come aboard in that outfit," Jenks observed.

Sarah played it light. "Actually, I did." She drifted slowly towards him.

Jenks frowned. "Really? Speedboat?"

"Chute," she noted tersely.

Jenks seemed genuinely impressed. For just a second, the mask of affability he wore slipped and she saw the cold calculation going on underneath. "I guess I'll have to keep lookouts on deck 24/7."

"I'd have just tranq'd them on the way in." Sarah said matter-of-factly as she continued to inch forward, her arms crossed in front of her. _Four __feet__._

"You're CIA, aren't you?" Jenks asked, searching her face for detail. "I swear I know you from somewhere, let me think…"

Sarah's eyes narrowed as she delicately pressed her approach. _ Three and a half feet._

Jenks snapped his fingers. "I remember now… you're the CIA's contribution to that babysitting detail for the Human Intersect… What was his name?"

Sarah tensed, her nerves tingling and predatory instincts locked firmly onto Jenks. _Three feet_.

"Charles…? Chuck…?" Suddenly Jenks' eyes opened wide and his head spun toward the cabin door – the same one that Chuck Bartowski had just walked out of minutes before. "Well I'll be –" he said, turning back to meet Sarah's eyes.

What he got instead was the whip-like crack of Sarah's foot to his jaw. The impact knocked him out and he fell to the deck limp.

She knelt to check his pulse. It was infrequent but firm. He was unconscious, but probably not for long.

Sarah moved quickly to the fireplace. This is where Chuck had flashed and she was willing to bet it was where the safe was hidden. Beneath the mantle lip and far to the right, she found a small, rectangular button. Pushing it released the entire fireplace assembly, which swung out on hidden rollers and hinges. Behind it, recessed into the bulkhead, was a combination safe. She smiled. Chuck had come through again.

Sarah pulled a small, electronic device from her backpack, stripped the adhesive protectors off one side and affixed it to the door. Turning the dial slowly to the right and then to the left, she let the device find the three correct positions and within a minute she had the door open.

Inside, amidst the cash, stock certificates and jewelry was the real prize: ledgers with hand-written amounts, names, account numbers, dates and locations and cargo manifests of ships with home ports in the Eastern Bloc countries and destinations in the Middle East and Africa. She tucked the ledgers into a waterproof bag and shoved them into her backpack.

But the crown jewel, the thing she most hoped for, was on the next shelf. A small, metal case of an odd, dull-gray color. On the outside, taped to the top, was a flat, plastic badge she recognized immediately – a dosimeter. It was almost certainly Petru Iorga's collection of samples – 'fresh', or unused enriched Plutonium fuel pellets. Proof that Jenks was involved with the black market sales of strategic materials.

Trying to find a way to open the case, she heard a groan. It was Jenks. Checking its contents would have to wait. She tucked the case into her pack and hurriedly closed the safe, swinging the fireplace enclosure shut behind it. She made her way to the door and, peeking carefully out to check for passersby, escaped through it into the hallway.

Behind her, hidden in the liquor shelf behind the bar, a high definition video camera continued to toil in silence, having recording everything that occurred in Jenks' quarters for the last several hours.

_

* * *

Port Quarterdeck, Majestic – 8:28PM EST_

Sarah opened the side pouch of her backpack and pulled out the compact sat-phone. Setting for continuous mode, she dialed the long number and hit the 'vox' switch, throwing caution – and her risk of detection – to the wind. This was no time for finesse. After ten seconds it began to ring but was picked up almost immediately.

"Walker," Casey answered. His tone indicated trouble.

"Casey, I'm compromised – we're going to have to go to plan 'B'. I'll be in the water in five so grab these coordinates."

"Roger that," he said perfunctorily, but immediately continued, "Walker… Beckman knows you're on the yacht. Bartowski and Roberts too."

Sarah sighed. "I know. " She sensed what Casey must have endured when Beckman contacted him. "I'm sorry."

Casey made a noise from far back in his throat. "I _told_ you this wasn't going to end well."

She winced. "Maybe so, but Casey… I got into the safe. And I'm coming back with evidence, some for us and some for the NEST team." _Some of which might save our asses_, she wanted to say, but she knew he could read between the lines.

There was a short pause. "I'll let them know," he said, his tone more upbeat.

"One more thing – I had to use my floater on Alahi, so I… I won't have much time," she said, letting him know she'd be treading water until she could be picked up.

"Understood, I'll call the frigate as soon as we're done here," Casey said solemnly.

"Thanks."

"Walker?" Casey blurted quickly.

"Yeah?"

Casey hardened his tone. "Get outta there." There was a click as the call terminated.

She put the phone away and turned to the rail. Below, the aft part of the ship lay deserted, except for one couple, who seemed to be arguing. Her gaze locked onto the man, and she recognized him immediately – it was Chuck.

With Jenks having an idea who he was, she couldn't leave him to make his way off the yacht with Jill. A look of deep concern crossed her face. She'd have to bring him with her.

She strapped on her pack and headed for the service ladder.

_

* * *

Fantail, Majestic – 8:28PM EST_

"She lied to you, Chuck," Jill told him firmly. "I didn't want to tell you until I was sure but, all of this – the Romanian Colonel, the trail of Plutonium, Jenks' safe… It was all a lie. A cover for her real plan."

Chuck glared at her, trying to make sense of what she was telling him. "What real plan? And if none of those things were real, why are we even on this yacht?" His volume increased with his confusion. "Jill, I found Sarah in Jenks' cabin looking for the safe right where you told me she'd be!"

Jill gave him a look that made him feel like he was eight years old. "Chuck, she wasn't looking for the safe. Think about it! She'd had all day to find it but was still looking for it when you showed up? Does that make sense to you?"

He wracked his brain for any logical explanation. "Maybe she had to hide for awhile," he offered. "Maybe, Jenks was in his cabin and she couldn't get in…" Even to him, those excuses seemed weak in the face of Jill's conviction.

"I was a spy too, remember?" She gave him her most earnest expression. "Believe me when I tell you that there's only one reason important enough for Sarah to do all of this. Only one reason she'd be willing to leave you in Oregon _with me_, and camp out in Jenks' cabin all day." Jill took a deep breath. "She came here to kill him."

Chuck's heart dropped and his face went pale. "No…"

"_Yes_," Jill insisted. "It's the only thing that makes sense. Jenks is a high-ranking member of the Ring – Sarah knew if she took him out it would cripple their organization."

"You're wrong, Jill, she'd have told me…" Chuck began, but his rebuke faded along with his shrinking confidence.

"Like she's told you everything before? Since when? She's a spy, Chuck. It's her business to lie." She reached out for his arm. "Wake up! It's who she is… a cold-blooded assassin. That will _never_ change." Jill sighed. "I'm sure Jenks is dead already."

Chuck looked into her eyes, tendrils of doubt encircling his mind. Could Jill be right? Had Sarah constructed this elaborate deception to hide a truth she knew he wouldn't be able to accept? Could she really have lied to him again, after he'd put it all on the line?

He saw Jill's eyes dart over his shoulder and seeing the expression on her face, he turned. In the distance, a flash of blonde hair over a black wetsuit was coming straight at them, her pistol out and facing back the way she came. He started to move toward the approaching agent but Jill was still clamped on his left arm.

"Chuck," Sarah said as she neared, "We have to go. _Now_." She gave Jill a short, disdainful glance.

"What? Why?" he replied. "And where?" He looked around apprehensively, seeing nothing but empty ocean around the yacht.

Sarah spied a life preserver attached to the rail nearby, unstrapped it and threw it over the rail, causing Chuck's eyes to bug out when he followed its arc into the churning dark water behind the boat. "Just come with me now, there's no time to explain."

"No!" Jill interjected. He felt her grip on his arm tighten. "Chuck, stay with me – remember what I told you."

Sarah reached out to take his other arm. "Chuck, you can't stay aboard," she explained, her frustration rising. "Jenks _knows_ who you are."

He didn't miss the added meaning Sarah had injected into her statement. She didn't mean Jenks knew he was Chuck Bartowski – the bane of Fulcrum. She meant Jenks knew Chuck was _the Human Intersect_.

"What difference does that make if Jenks is dead?" Jill replied.

Sarah's gaze flicked to Jill sharply, her eyes narrowed. "What makes you think he's dead?"

"Because that was your real mission here, it's obvious," Jill accused. "Stop lying and tell us the truth! You came here to assassinate Jenks, just admit it!"

Sarah turned to Chuck and looked into his eyes. Her eyes questioned him, and when he couldn't hide the doubt he felt her expression changed to one of sadness and regret. She squeezed his arm gently.

"Chuck," Sarah began, "I didn't kill Arlen Jenks. Maybe once… I could have. But I'm not that person anymore. " She gave him a beseeching smile. "You have to trust me."

Chuck was acutely aware that each of the women had one of his arms and he was the wishbone. His heart told him to believe Sarah and go with her, and the pull was strong. But he couldn't discount what Jill had said. If Sarah had really lied to him about her mission in Medford _after_ he'd made his stand he didn't know if he could ever trust her again.

"Chuck!" Both women said simultaneously. He looked first at Jill and then at Sarah, his brow furrowed with tension. He didn't know what to do. He needed more time.

Suddenly the P.A. system clicked and hissed to life.

"_Hello everyone, this is Arlen Jenks. I just wanted to let everyone know that everything is okay – the security personnel moving about the ship are just trying to locate one of our guests, who I need to speak with immediately. Please extend them your cooperation so we can get this matter settled as soon as possible. Thanks."_

Chuck shook his head. Arlen Jenks was _alive_.

Jill was wrong.

He looked over just in time to see the look of defeat on Jill's face, Jenks' unexpected announcement having sunk her position. Undaunted, she pulled on his arm. "Chuck, this doesn't change anything," she pleaded. "Stay here with me. I'll get you off the yacht and back to Orion and –"

"No." Chuck said calmly, but firmly. Jill stopped mid-sentence, her mouth still open.

Sarah's eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. She gazed downward briefly, hiding her expression of relief. But then she sensed the opening and spoke softly, but urgently. "Chuck, we have to go." He turned to her.

"I know, Sarah." Chuck gave her a knowing, pointed look. "But I need a second, please." She took in his face and saw all she needed to see.

"Please hurry," she said as she let go of his arm and moved away toward the starboard handrail.

Chuck turned to Jill.

"Jill, I can't go with you. Not now. Not ever. We had something once… I can't deny that. But the person you want me to be, the one you keep trying to turn me into…" He shook his head.

"Chuck, don't –" Jill began.

"I've already talked about this with Orion. He'll help you escape. But as far as you and I…" Chuck paused, taking a long breath, "We're done."

Jill stared at the deck for several seconds, then she reached for her left hand and carefully removed the engagement ring, holding it in front of her as she watched the diamond sparkle in the yacht's running lights. "I guess diamonds really aren't a girl's best friend," she quipped weakly, trying to manage a smile through her tears. She handed him the ring. He pocketed it and looked meaningfully into her eyes.

"I guess this is goodbye," Chuck said, drifting backward towards Sarah, who waited with visible impatience, straddling the rail and waiting anxiously for him to join her. He gave Jill a last look and turned away.

Half way to Sarah he saw the two men in black polo shirts appear from the starboard walkway, advancing in combat stances and holding silenced pistols in front of them. They saw Sarah at the rail and their pistols were pointed at her. Chuck's brain screamed at him even as he felt the flash ignite.

_T__he nightmare_.

Forcing himself forward through the flash's disorienting effects, Chuck lurched like a drunk toward the two security guards. With every split second that passed, some of his balance was restored and his command of close-in combat increased. He was almost to them and was sure he'd know enough in the next second to launch an attack on the lead guard.

"Chuck! Stop!" came a voice behind him – Jill's. The second guard turned to him, alerted by Jill's call, and the Intersect forced Chuck to change direction and engage him first.

Just as Chuck's front kick impacted the man's throat the first guard fired his pistol.

The two shots, sharp pops back-to-back, echoed loudly over the deck.

With the second guard writhing in agony on the deck, Chuck drove his foot into the back of the first guard's knee and when he collapsed backward, Chuck grabbed his gun arm, twisted it around at an unnatural angle and stripped the pistol. Spinning quickly, he whipped the guard across the head with the pistol, knocking him to the deck unconscious.

With the immediate threat dealt with, Chuck desperately scanned the part of the rail where Sarah had been.

There was no one there.

Without hesitation, Chuck began running towards the rail. His footsteps thundered in his ears and in his mind the overlap between reality and his dream was converging into a single, surreal instant. He had made this run before and he knew how it ended. But this time… _he'd find her_. At the rail he launched himself overboard into the dark, churning water.

"No!" Jill screamed, trailing him to the transom and peering over it frantically trying to catch a glimpse of him in the yacht's turbulent wake. She bore a shocked expression, as if unable to comprehend what she'd just witnessed. Chuck had fought two men with weapons and had quickly and efficiently taken them both down. How was that possible? He had no combat training! She replayed the scene again and again in her mind.

Before a minute had passed the men came up behind her. She didn't bother to look. She knew who was there.

"Can you turn the boat around?" Jill asked, her head tilted slightly to the side.

"I could. But then my guests would know we were searching for someone overboard, and it would draw too much attention," Jenks explained. "Best to let them meet their fate in the water. It's only 60 degrees, They'll only last a few hours at best."

"I see," Jill said with false indifference.

"If you'd told me your fiancé was the Human Intersect earlier, it might not have come to this, my dear. Now, he's gone, as are some of my possessions, and I'm having a hard time seeing your continued value to me," Jenks said with casual malevolence.

The revelation took Jill aback, but her face was turned away and Jenks missed it. Chuck was the Intersect? She thought back to the musical puzzle box, to the strange team arrangement, to Sarah's warning earlier. _Jenks knows who you are_.

So it was true. Chuck, not Bryce, was the Human Intersect. How could she not have seen it?

She recovered quickly. "Don't be too quick to throw me to the sharks, Arlen."

"And why not?" Jenks inquired.

Jill sighed. "Because you're forgetting I can still bring you something of great value."

Jenks frowned. "And what would that be?"

"Orion." Jill said with weary resignation.

_

* * *

Floating on the ocean in the Majestic's wake – 8:38PM EST_

The fifth time Chuck yelled Sarah's name he heard something in the distance… a voice. He swam that direction for half a minute and called again. When he heard her response, he rejoiced. _She was alive_. He could just make out her pale blonde hair in the last rays of illumination from the yacht.

Another minute of swimming brought him to her and a surprise – the life preserver from the yacht she'd thrown in earlier.

"Chuck!" Sarah yelled as he approached. She was swimming to meet him. When she got to an arm's length, she pulled him to the lifebuoy. "Grab hold of this, it'll help you stay afloat."

"Sarah…" he gasped urgently between breaths, "Are you okay? Are you shot?" Chuck strained to make out her face in the almost total darkness.

"No… well, technically yeah, but I'm okay. One of the bullets hit my backpack and knocked me off the yacht."

Chuck exhaled loudly and he closed his eyes in relief. "Sarah, you have no idea how happy that makes me feel."

She grinned. "Me too. They say you should wait two hours after being shot before you go swimming."

Chuck laughed, but his mood quickly turned somber. "It was just… I had this dream back in Medford… but we can talk about it later."

"What about you, Chuck? Are you alright? How did you get past those guards?" With her free hand, Sarah brushed the wet locks of hair from Chuck's forehead and finally placed a palm against his cheek.

"Well," Chuck started, "as soon as I saw them raise their guns I started to fwmpphh—" The sudden press of her lips on his cut off his sentence and he immediately reached up to cup her face. A wave of warmth rushed throughout his body and forgot about everything except the kiss. They separated only when a wave splashed against both their faces, bringing them back into the present.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

Sarah smiled. "For trusting me. When I gave you lots of reasons not to."

"You're welcome." He smiled back at her. Not knowing what else to say, he changed the subject. "So, what do we do now? What happens next?"

"For now, we keep you as warm as we can and wait for help. Get up on this lifebuoy as far as possible, Chuck. You need to get as much of your body out of the water as you can." She pushed the buoy towards him and he struggled to bring his chest out of the water onto it.

Chuck frowned at her. "But what about you?"

"I'm in a wetsuit, Chuck – you're not. I'm a lot warmer than you are right now." He nodded, not fully convinced. She smiled at him, or at least he though she did. It was hard to make out her face in the darkness.

A minute passed, both of them thinking about what might happen in the time ahead of them.

Impulsively, Sarah pulled the life preserver closer and put her arm around him, drawing him to her in a firm embrace. She laid her chin on his shoulder and put her face against his, just holding him there as she treaded water to balance them. She could feel him shivering, slightly.

"It's not so bad," Chuck said, softly.

She squeezed her eyes shut. For a moment, she was back in the flooded elevator at Laszlo's playhouse. Chuck was keeping her alive with his own breath and she'd taken it – realizing for the very first time that if one of them died and the other lived, the survivor would arguably be the less lucky.

Nothing had changed since then.

Releasing Chuck gently, she reached down to her submerged belt and found the switch on the emergency transponder that switched it to full power mode. It would now emit on a wider range of frequencies, twice as often. But it would only run half as long.

It didn't really matter. If the helo didn't get here by the time the battery failed, Chuck would be gone and as far as she was concerned, she might as well be too.

_

* * *

Castle – 6:45PM PST_

Casey was losing his inner calm.

"Yeah, I'm trying to get the status on SAR mission 9-17, it's an emergency asset extraction. I've had an agent in the water for an hour now without a floatation device," he barked into the mic.

The Hawes' OOD responded in a routine and calm voice that further stoked Casey's frustration. "Sir, Whiskey-One is in the hangar for repairs. It's not flight ready and won't be for at least sixteen to seventeen hours."

"Sixteen hours! Are you kidding me? That's way too long. Let me ask you, Lieutenant, can _you_ tread water in the North Atlantic for sixteen hours?"

"As I said, sir, as soon as—"

Casey cut him off. "No, that's not good enough. Aren't there two helos on that frigate? What about the other one?"

"No can do sir," the officer stated, "Whiskey-Two is in retrofit at Stratford and won't be back on board until the end of the month."

Casey boiled over. "This is my _partner_ in the water you frickin' squiddy!" He stopped himself before he burned this bridge completely.

There was a long pause.

"Look," the lieutenant said, his voice subdued, "I'll wake the captain and see if we can't add a few knots under the keel. It might shave an hour, but we're still six hours out. " In an even softer tone, he continued, "If I were you, I might start thinking about waking up someone closer."

Casey gritted his teeth. It's not like he hadn't thought of that already. But you couldn't just have anyone picking up your operatives in the middle of the ocean if you expected to keep it covert. "Give me a call the moment there's any change in the status of that helo, okay?"

"Will do. Hawes out."

Casey stared into space for a moment, then took off the headset and threw it at the console. He was being forced to do something he really, _really_ didn't want to do.

_

* * *

Floating on the ocean – 10:04PM EST_

Insulated by her wetsuit, Sarah wasn't nearly as much by the cold as Chuck. She talked to him constantly, making idle conversation, just trying to keep him alert and engaged – and distracted from how cold he was. But as time wore on, she could hear him begin to slur his words and miss some of what she said to him. Repeating herself became more and more prevalent.

"Are you okay?" she asked again. She's asked him the same question every few minutes. While she couldn't see him anymore, she'd been listening to his responses carefully for cues to his stamina.

"Yeah, fine," he answered. It was what he usually said. This time, there was more. "Sarah?"

"Yeah?" she responded.

"I flashed a little while ago. It was a white paper on life expectancy while immersed in cold water."

Sarah closed her eyes. She reached for his face and when she found it, she leaned forward until her forehead touched his.

"I kinda wished I hadn't," Chuck finished, his voice a whisper.

She drew back to look at him. "We're going to get through this, Chuck Bartowski. Do you _hear_ me?"

He nodded, but then he realized it was so dark she couldn't see him. "Yeah, I hear you," he said.

She checked the illuminated dial on her watch. The beacon had about another two hours before the battery failed. Without its signal to home in on, no one would find them in this vast, black ocean until the morning. By then it wouldn't matter.

"Sarah?" he asked again.

"Yeah?" she replied softly.

For a few seconds he said nothing, and she waited patiently for him to collect his words together.

"I love you," he said tentatively, still seemingly afraid she would panic at his words and reject him.

His courage melted her heart and she rushed to reassure him.

"I love you too, Chuck," she said, supportively.

In the silence behind her words she realized that she'd finally been able to do it. That she'd finally said what she'd wanted to say after months of thinking it and weeks of wanting to tell him to his face. It had taken another life-threatening situation for her to do it, but now it was done. And it hadn't been nearly as hard as she'd imagined it would be.

Emboldened, something else occurred to her. She pulled him close and put her cheek to his; what she wanted to say took too much courage for her to deliver in anything but a whisper.

"I'll tell you as many times as you want," she breathed, "if you just hang on for me. Can you do that for me, Chuck? For us?"

His face turned toward her, his breath faint on her cheek.

"Yes."

When she kissed him, his lips were disconcertingly cold.

_

* * *

Castle – 7:17PM PST_

Casey wracked his brain for some other way to proceed, but failed utterly to come up with anything. Walker was running out of time – if she wasn't out already. Casey pushed that thought away, it served no purpose to assume the worst.

He made the call.

There was a flurry of noise on the other end, someone putting on a headset. _Here we go_.

"Beckman, secure."

"Col-, Major Casey, ma'am. I'm sorry to bother you, but I need you to waive the standing order that restrict agent extraction to authorized military units only. Both helos attached to the on-call frigate are down and Agent Walker has been in the water without a floatation device for almost two hours now."

Beckman sighed. "What are you proposing, Major?"

"Ma'am, I can have a Coast Guard Jayhawk to her in forty minutes from Otis Air Base in Cape Cod—"

"No." Beckman declared.

"Ma'am?"

"Walker knew the risks going on this misadventure of yours. I'm sorry, but we can't risk involving unsecured resources."

"But ma'am—" Casey began.

"Major Casey!" Beckman exclaimed in an imperious tone before dropping her voice to a whisper. "Jenks is going to be on a witch hunt after this, and having the Coast Guard rescue an operative who clearly came from his yacht is a huge, red flag of incrimination. I can't allow you to make things worse than they already are."

"But—"

"No, Major – and that's my final word. Now, is there anything else?"

Casey's face burned and he struggled to contain a career-ending rant. "No, ma'am," he finally managed to grunt out.

Time passed while he silently fumed, but the expected 'click' of the call being terminated didn't come. After a few seconds, Beckman spoke again.

"Did you check _all_ of the available units near Walker's position?"

"Yes, ma'am. All surface, air and land based assets," Casey intoned, morosely.

There was a pause. "Check again," Beckman said, and dropped the connection.

After a few seconds of staring straight ahead, Casey ripped the headset off his head and walked to the opposite console. He brought up the JSTARS platform tracking page for the eastern seaboard and scroll-zoomed to Walker's last known position. Around it, small, white icons of varying shapes formed a constellation of ships and planes, their surrounding halos showing the extent of each ship's two-hour movement ranges.

He clicked through the legend, highlighting Navy ships and aircraft, Coast Guard cutters, fishing trawlers, cargo vessels, cruise ships… all of them too far away. Frustrated, he clicked down again and… stopped. There was a dark blue icon almost on top of Walker's position, why hadn't he seen it before?

When he read the label on the legend his eyes flew open and he nearly fell over his chair racing to get back to the communication gear.

_

* * *

Floating on the ocean – 11:22PM EST_

The cold water on her upper lip jolted her back to reality and she kicked hard to push her head back above the surface. Coughing and sputtering, she shook her head and picked up the pace of her kicks despite the aching in her legs.

She was very tired.

In a sudden panic she reached out her hand to feel for Chuck, and heaved a sigh when she felt him still there. Even better, a partial moon had risen and she could see his outline, although his face was still in shadow. He appeared asleep, his upper body still sprawled over the top of the lifebuoy.

"Chuck?" she called. "Chuck!"

He didn't respond. She reached out to touch his neck, it was still warm but that didn't quell the apprehension she felt. She shook him, lightly, not wanting to tip him into the water – she wasn't sure she had enough strength left to wrestle him back onto the preserver.

"Chuck, wake up. Wake up… Chuck!" she screamed hoarsely. Still, he didn't stir.

Reaching up with both arms, she balanced one hand around his neck and her elbow on the preserver, using her free hand to slap him lightly on the cheek.

There was a flicker of movement – she thought she saw his eyelids flutter briefly. Then his head turned and he moaned. He was still alive.

Sarah exhaled, letting her head fall back. Another minute of grace was hers. But they were almost out of time. She looked down through the water at her belt. The L.E.D. on the transponder glowed pale orange-red – it's battery almost depleted. She guessed it maybe had ten to fifteen minutes left.

Just ten to fifteen minutes to live out the rest of their lives together.

"Chuck, you have to wake up, sweetie! Wake up!" she slapped his cheek again as she brought her face close to his. He moaned again and moved his head.

"Tired…" he muttered softly, "sleepy."

"I know, Chuck, but you need to stay with me," she implored.

He moaned something unintelligible.

"You promised me you'd hang on, remember? Chuck!"

Leaning forward, almost pulling Chuck off the lifebuoy, she put her lips on his, kissing him with as much fervency as she could summon. At first, his lips were slack, but she thought… she was almost sure… he was kissing her back.

Softly at first, but growing with each passing second she heard a roaring in her ears, like a waterfall. Nearly delirious with exhaustion, all she could think was that maybe, _this was __how it ended_.

Then, to her utter amazement, her feet hit something solid, and a moment later a black surface rose from underneath them, the water rushing away to all sides and threatening to take them with it. She kept her grip firmly on Chuck as the water tore at them. And as their bodies fell noisily to the bare metal deck she suddenly realized what was happening.

A submarine had surfaced from below them, homing in on the sonar pulse from her transponder. She closed her eyes in a surge of renewed hope. _Thank you, Casey_.

In the distance, she could hear the clangs of hatches being unlatched and the scraping of footsteps on metal. A floodlight came on suddenly from somewhere high above. It was blazingly bright after the moonlit ocean and Sarah had to squint to see that the light came from the submarine's sail. Its harsh beam threw Chuck into sharp relief. Pale and unconscious, he was sliding slowly off the deck and into the water.

Grunting from the effort, she grabbed onto his shirt and dragged him higher up the curved surface, laid down beside him and wrapped him with her body. She rubbed, as best she could, the parts of his arms and legs she could reach with her own.

To keep him alive she gave him everything she had left.

_

* * *

Medical Bay, USS Providence – Saturday,1:19AM EST_

Sarah stared down at Chuck's motionless form. He lay in the bunk, covered with blankets and heating pads, his body temperature slowly elevating. While it wasn't a sure thing, they'd said he'd make it. And while her own condition was less than optimal, she'd refused to leave his side – and she wouldn't until she was sure he'd be alright.

Working gently, she found his hand under the blankets and stroked the back of it, delicately running her fingers between his knuckles and then taking his hand in hers. He'd been sleeping so soundly that when she felt him squeeze her hand she was startled.

"Hey, you're awake," she said, cheerfully.

His eyes opened just a crack. "Barely," he said, groggily.

"You should go back to sleep – they've given you something for the pain, but you're going to be fine."

"What about you?"

Sarah smiled reassuringly. "I'm fine – nothing warm chicken soup and rest won't fix."

Chuck closed his eyes and sighed. "I'm glad." After a few seconds of quiet, his expression grew pensive. "Sarah?"

"Yes, Chuck?"

"I knew you wouldn't kill Jenks. That you weren't the kind of person who would do that…" he said.

She sighed. What they'd just been through had seemed like a baptism – rendering all of their shared baggage irrelevant and giving them the chance for a fresh start. She didn't want to taint this start with more lies.

"I might have… once. But…" Sarah began.

"...you're not that person anymore," Chuck finished for her, managing a weak smile.

She beamed, his echo of her words on the Majestic's deck resonating between them. "I'm not that person anymore," she repeated. She gripped his hand tightly. "You should sleep now. I promise I'll stay right here."

His brow furrowed and he pulled his hand from her grasp. "Have to do something first," he said. He worked his hand underneath the blanket and seemed to be massaging his other hand. "It was something I promised myself I would do, in the water."

Sarah was perplexed, but she waited with a calm anticipation. They were both alive, that was all that was really important. The euphoria from their rescue made her feel buoyant, even giddy.

His left hand reached out for hers, and when she gave it to him he brought his right hand out from beneath the blanket in a closed fist. He opened it into her palm, but before she could look at what he'd put there he closed her hand and surrounded it with both of his.

"I gave this to Jill once," he said softly, "the wrong girl for the wrong reason."

Sarah looked up from their hands into his eyes and realized, with shocking clarity, that Chuck wasn't talking about the ring she felt in her palm. He was talking about his heart.

"It didn't belong to her," he continued, concentrating on her face. "It belonged to you."

She held her breath.

"Will you take care of it for me?"

In a daze, she nodded her head and tried to smile at him. He smiled back, and then his eyes closed and he let out a long breath, his hands slowly falling to the bed.

She waited for a few minutes. When she was sure he was asleep, she slowly opened her hand. There, in her palm, was the brilliant solitaire engagement ring that Chuck had given Jill for their fake engagement. She exhaled sharply, smiling at the irony. It was in its return that it had its greatest significance, marking not the beginning but the end of one relationship.

And the turning point for another.

With exquisite care, she closed her hand around the ring, each finger wrapping itself protectively around Chuck's heart.

For the first time she could recall, when she looked into their future she was no longer afraid.

_

* * *

A/N: __Well, that was it. I hope everyone who made it this far got some enjoyment from it! But, if not, never fear__ – MystLynx will be along in Chapter 15 to __shock and amaze you__._


	15. Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead

**CHUCK VERSUS THE TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE,**

**NO GOOD, REALLY BAD DAY**

**Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead**

**By Mystlynx**

**Highway 72, Utah: Now**

Chuck scrambled to find a hiding spot among the boulders and scree at the side of the road. Kneeling down, he watched Sarah speed away in her Porsche. They'd be together once more, he knew it, she'd promised. How long that would take depended on her ability to lose their tail. His job was to remain hidden and safe until she could come for him. This eventuality had already been planned for, rendezvous location chosen ahead of time. Not knowing when they were to see each other again, Chuck couldn't tear his eyes from the shrinking vehicle.

Racing through another corner of the twisting mountain road, he imagined the tires squealing in protest before he could actually hear them. Suddenly, her smooth maneuver morphed into disaster. The car shuddered drunkenly before entering a lazy-looking spin. Slewing out of control, Sarah's Porsche caught the guardrail sideways and vaulted in a flip-flopping somersault that carried it over the edge and out of sight. As Chuck sprang to his feet, the crack of a rifle shot sped by in dogged pursuit of the much faster bullet.

"Nooooo!!!" Chuck cried impotently. It was too late. She was already gone, dead before the distant sounds of rending metal completed the journey to his ears. Standing frozen, he refused to believe it. She'd made a promise and Sarah always kept her word.

He was still in that spot five minutes later when a car rolled to a stop with a crunch of gravel. The door swung open as Tommy climbed from the vehicle, smiling at the sight of the broken man. "Her fate was sealed the day she went against the Senator. Just as yours was the day you crossed paths with me. My bosses want to see you. Afterwards, they've promised to let me have you. I guarantee death will not come quickly. Your friends have been lucky in that regard. The pain will be beyond excruciating long before I end you."

Blankly, Chuck turned to face the person speaking from so far away. The face was familiar, as was the voice. Only one word slid through the haze, but it was enough. **Pain**. Latching on to it like a touchstone, the Intersect flooded Chuck with every file, scrap of video and scientific paper contained in its storehouse, all focused down to that one word. Heart stumbling in his chest, Chuck doubled over then fell to hands and knees, the pricks and pokes of gravel into his skin going unnoticed. Tears and vomit splattered the dusty rock of the shoulder. He shook under the assault of unwanted knowledge.

"Stop....stop....I don't want to know this...I don't....Please....Don't make me...," he begged to no avail. His field of view turned red at the edges. Lifting his chin, Chuck watched Tommy close the distance. "Run away."

"Oh no Mr. Bartowski, there will be no more running for you. Your protectors are all gone. There's no one left to save you." Tommy wore a confident sneer while looking down on his victim.

"Not me.....run....run....," Chuck forced the words through a constricting throat. "Too late."

The Intersect struck with no regard for mercy and even less humanity.

----------

**Washington DC, Chambers of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence: 48 hours ago**

"You can make this all go away General, there's still time," Senator Jenks whispered into her ear. "Just give me what I want and I'll cancel this hearing. Give me control over the Human Intersect Program."

General Beckman's response was a brusque shake of the head, otherwise maintaining her ramrod straight posture. The early morning 'invitation' had not been completely unexpected after the Majestic incident. She knew there would be repercussions of some kind. Jenks had been made the fool and he was not the type of man to suffer in silence. Unfortunately, with no prior warning on exactly what the Senator had in store for her, any damage control would have to be created on the spot. An idea that was extremely distasteful to a person like the General.

With a final, "Have it your way," spoken under his breath, Senator Jenks turned to the assembled committee. He strode down the aisle to a podium. After posing for a dignified second, looking alternately humbled and outraged, he waited to be addressed by the chairman.

"I call to order this special session of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence." Chairman Mendoza's amplified voice carried through the assembled Senators and out to the gallery; filled with reporters, lobbyists and more than a few tourists. "Distinguished Senator Arlen Jenks has requested this unscheduled session. Senator, the floor is yours."

Sharply dressed in a coal black suit, just the right amount of gray at his temples, he was the picture of what a proper member of congress should look like. Senator Jenks spoke to the assembled with supreme confidence in every word. "Distinguished committee members, my fellow Americans, it is with much regret that I come before you today." His eyes swept the room, giving the impression that he was speaking personally to each individual in the chamber. "Intelligence is our greatest weapon. It keeps our soldiers safe, protects our very families from the dangers of an uncertain world. 9/11 is a sad reminder of what happens when that system fails us."

He smiled inwardly at the expected hush invoking that day always produced. Pushing back his shoulders, Jenks stood taller, prouder as he surveyed his audience. "We can never let that happen again." With his following words, the Senator slowly let his body sag. "Unfortunately, in their zeal to protect the American way of life, sometimes our protectors become the cancer we are trying to cut out." Pointing dramatically, Arlen Jenks straightened again with fervor ringing in his voice. "One such person is General Diane Beckman of the NSA."

A firestorm swirled through the chamber, hot on the heels of his bold statement. The Senator stood at the center of it all, rock steady in the face of such commotion. Allowing a few more seconds of discord, the Senator pounced again. "I submit to you, General Beckman has gone rogue, conducting her own operations against members of these very halls; against me, for example."

Like a championship match at Wimbledon, glances and words were tossed back and forth between the committee members until Senator Mendoza brought it all to a halt, banging his gavel vigorously. "Senator Jenks, those are extremely serious charges. What proof do you have to substantiate your accusation?"

Pausing for a moment, Jenks locked eyes with the stone-faced General. He feigned pity for what she'd forced him to do. Holding up his hand for all to see, he was playing to the audience again, an easily recognizable remote control casually held in his grasp. "I have the best kind of proof, Mr. Chairman. I've got it all on video." Smiling to the onlookers, he appeared every bit the unjustly wronged common man in today's camera on each street-corner culture. "What you are about to see is an operative under the direct control of General Beckman. She was breaking into the safe on my boat. Why? I can't say. It's possible Beckman is trying to build files on us all, looking for blackmail materials maybe."

The air was pregnant with a buzz of anticipation. General Beckman refused to wither under the combined stares of the 15 Senators seated before her. Jenks had his thumb poised over the play button as he awaited permission. Silence blanketed the chamber when Senator Mendoza directed a nod his way. Smug with satisfaction, Arlen Jenks pushed play.

Screens around the chamber flickered to life, sound coming soon after. It was only seconds before the first gasps of outrage echoed through the room. Pleased by the response, Senator Jenks slowly pivoted to view his handiwork and froze. Up on the screens for all to see was a very naked young woman. Her partner was none other than himself. Unbelieving, he watched as the buxom lady lay seductively on the bed in his stateroom.

"Oh Senator, that's quite a bill you're presenting. Let's see how it stands up in committee." She giggled and gestured for him to come closer.

Stabbing at the buttons on the remote, Jenks tried to put a stop to the presentation gone awry. The entire chamber had exploded in reaction to the offensive display. Senator Mendoza screaming and banging his gavel, spittle flying in all directions, attempted to bring some order to the proceedings. The Senator's young aide fled the chamber, chased by her electronically amplified moans. When it became apparent the remote was unresponsive, a quick thinking page pulled the plug on the video equipment. A last image appeared just seconds before the monitors died. An image not lost on either the Senator or the General. After all, the three stars that formed the avatar's belt were easily recognized by both of them.

----------

**Conference Room, Ring West Coast Facility: 40 hours ago**

"......and all she had to do was sit there. I'd already handed her the perfect alibi by keeping the meeting a secret from the General until this morning. Now, I've got to fend off censure and a possible vote for expulsion. Orion has humiliated me, spat in my face," ranted the Senator. "It's time he learned what happens to those who cross us."

The Chairman of the nameless individuals spoke up, "What are your orders, sir?"

"I want Chuck Bartowski working for us. First though, I want him broken. Orion needs to be taught a lesson. How I would love to see his face when his son is defeated and kneeling at my feet. The time for games is over. Kill that merry band of misfits until Chuck is all alone. I want you to save Walker for last. Make sure he has a front row seat when she dies."

"We have just the person for the job, Senator. Consider it done."

"I'll consider it done when Bartowski is mine. I expect to hear of your success very soon." The line clicked dead as Jenks ended the call.

"Agent Henderson, initiate contact with Tommy. Tell him he gets one more chance to become part of the Ring or we're offering permanent retirement."

Positioned at the back of the room, a man nodded and silently left. From down the table, a voice asked, "Would we really give him a place with us?"

A snorting laugh was followed by, "Of course not. Tommy has previously snubbed our generous offer to become one of us. Succeed or fail, he and his associates will be retired as well. Now, for our next order of business. In light of these new developments, we must discuss the future usefulness of Senator Jenks, or his lack thereof."

----------

**Current Team Zodiac Base of Operations: 36 hours ago**

"Another hotel? I'm beginning to think I'll never see my own room again," Chuck groused while tossing his luggage on the bed.

Sarah hid her smile. He was starting to sound like his old self again. The Majestic affair and at sea ordeal had worried her much more than she'd ever let on. "Hey, at least they're springing for decent rooms. We could be guests at the Bates Motel."

"That would be bad. Little Norman did have a thing for blondes." Chuck slid up behind her, engulfing Sarah in his arms. "Not to say that he wouldn't be showing good taste in coming after you."

"Excuse me, Mr. Bartowski? Since when did being stalked by a cross-dressing psycho killer become a compliment for one's girlfriend?" Sarah turned a playful glare his way as she shrugged off his embrace. She waved off his follow up reach and pointed to the bathroom. "In the shower big boy, you're still not completely diesel fume free."

With a waggle of eyebrows, Chuck shot back, "You seem to have an aura of Eau de Submarine about you as well, Miss Walker. Care to see if the shower is big enough for two?"

Inwardly, she wanted to. It still felt too soon though. He'd been on the edge of death only days before. "Wow, not only am I prime stalker material, but I also smell. Be still my heart. A girl can only take so much romancing." Sarah spun him around and gave a push. She cut him off before he could protest, "Tut, tut, tut, off with you. Then to bed. To sleep."

"Killjoy," Chuck said with a laugh before disappearing into the bathroom.

Dropping to the bed, Sarah was more than a little worn out as well. A couple of cross country flights combined with floating in the ocean could really sap one's energy. At this moment, she was only interested in curling up next to Chuck for a good 12 hours or so. Needless to say, the ringing of her phone was an unwelcome interruption.

"Roan, this better be important. We just got in," she barked into her cell.

"Trust me, Agent Walker, this is very important. I would go so far as to say it was a matter of life and death," an all too familiar voice purred through the speaker.

Sarah shot upright. "Tommy!"

"It's so good to be remembered." Tommy switched the phone to speaker and set it down. "And you'll definitely want to remember this."

First there was a rustle of cloth. Soon, she heard a shrill, female scream and the sounds of struggling. Roan's voice came through clearly, "Stop it! She's got nothing to do with this. I picked her up in a bar. For God's sake man, let her go."

"Really? You mean you don't know who she is? I'm impressed Jill. The great Roan Montgomery wasn't able to seduce all the secrets out of you."

Sarah's mouth hung open in surprise. No wonder Jill had always seemed to be around. Of course, no one but her and Casey would know Jill Roberts and who she was to Chuck.

"Jill, what does he mean?" Roan asked.

Sounding ever so pleased, Tommy was happy to oblige, "This little lady was a member of Fulcrum. She suffered the same misfortune as I, running afoul of Bartowski and his handlers. You took a different path though, didn't you Jill? Got yourself a sweet deal by switching sides?"

At this point, Jill found her voice, "No. I didn't switch sides. Tommy, I'm working for the Senator. I'm supposed to lead him to Orion. Damn it Tommy, let me go. I can help you."

Anger swept through Sarah at Jill's confession. After all this, she was still playing Chuck. Anger that turned cold at what she heard next. Tommy's voice was a little weaker, farther from the phone as he spoke, "Sorry Jill. I don't know any Senators; have no orders concerning Orion. My job is simple: kill off everyone but Bartowski."

"No...no...no...Tommy please..," Jill begged.

"You were right about one thing though, I will let you go."

Jill's scream was piercing and primal. Before it faded away, Sarah was on her feet and running to the bathroom door. She pounded on it frantically. "Chuck, out of the shower now!" Gun appearing in her hand, Sarah spun when the room door crashed open. Casey and Forrest piled in, armed and ready.

The phone drew her attention as Roan yelled her name, "Walker! Get Chuck and get out of here. I can handle these guys."

"Handle me? Think again old man. It is good advice though. My associates should be arriving at Mr. Bartowski's residence as we speak. Who will you try and save Walker, this dried up has-been or Chuck's sister and her husband?"

Chuck burst from the bathroom, running Sarah down in his haste. They fell in a tangle as she listened to Roan's struggling. Pressing the phone to her ear, Sarah heard Roan say, "It's been a pleasure working with you and your team Agent Walker." She heard a grunt of pain and then......nothing.

Pulling Chuck to his feet, Casey next reached for Sarah's hand. "What's the situation? We heard you banging and yelling for boy wonder here."

Back on her feet and moving to gather up their bags, Sarah explained, "Tommy is in the hotel. I.....I.....he just killed Roan and Jill." She heard Chuck gasp at the news. "That's not all. Apparently he sent people after Ellie and Devon. I'll call Carina and give her the heads up. We need to get moving now!"

Casey and Forrest absorbed the information. In little more than a minute they were back and ready to leave. Chuck on the other hand had dropped to the bed in a stupor, unable to process the latest bad news to come his way. Sarah tossed her gear to Casey. "Get down stairs; we'll be right behind you."

Grabbing his hands, she tried to tug him to his feet. Chuck was just dead weight to her efforts. They didn't have time for this. Sarah knew what she had to do. There would be ample time to hate herself for it later. She hoped. Slapping Chuck hard, Sarah yelled in his face, "What kind of man are you, sitting here while killers are going after your sister!"

Chuck's eyes drilled into her. Sarah's heart stammered in silent apology, her chest suddenly too tight. Without a word, he leapt to his feet and charged from the room. Only seconds behind, she followed in his wake, brushing the moisture from her eyes.

----------

**Echo Park, Burbank: 35 hours ago**

Cursing the traffic once again, Sarah tossed her phone into her lap. Still nothing but voice mail. She'd been dialing the whole trip and never gotten through to Carina. Her imagination had spun through many scenarios during the agonizingly slow journey. The billowing smoke and army of firemen, however, was completely unexpected.

She noted Casey and Forrest stalking the perimeter on full alert. Pulling to a stop just outside the yellow caution tape, Sarah swept the crowd of onlookers for anyone suspicious. Chuck, on the other hand, jumped from the car and made a mad dash into the heart of the storm. "Chuck, wait! It's not safe!" she yelled at his back. He was able to bull rush the first cop, sending him sprawling. Two more angled in and took him to the ground quickly and efficiently. All the while, Chuck squirmed and fought while calling out his sister's name.

Casey got to him first, flashing one of his badges. As the policemen let Chuck go, Chuck looked ready to run headlong into the smoking doorway of his apartment. A firm, most likely painful, grip on his shoulder kept him in place as Casey whispered in his ear. John got the attention of an officer and pointed out Sarah standing at the tape. She was waved through to join them.

"What were you thinking, Chuck?" Sarah hissed quietly. "Ring agents could have been waiting for you."

Roughly brushing her back, he kept his eyes locked on the flames leaping from his bedroom window. "Casey already read me the riot act. You don't need to pile on."

Sarah decided there was nothing she could say that wouldn't make things worse. Instead, she chose to stand there next to him, hoping her presence provided some comfort as they watched the firefighters do their jobs. It wasn't long before the smoke had thinned to dirty gray tendrils as it leaked from the only place she'd thought of as home.

"Roan and Jill are really dead." Chuck had moved closer and was whispering. "I saw that crowd at the hotel, all clustered around them. It's not supposed to be like this. Roan should be telling one of his improbable stories of escaping from someone's bedroom. And Jill....Jill was trying to set things right, make up for her past."

Sarah knew differently, however, the truth would only serve to hurt him more. "Don't worry Chuck, they weren't in there. Carina was protecting your sister and Devon. For all her faults, she's still a top notch agent."

"So was Roan, look how that turned out. You haven't been able to get through to Carina, have you? We have to face facts, Sarah; my being the Intersect has killed my sister - and yours."

Turning Chuck around to face her, Sarah said, "Don't think like that, Chuck. You didn't do any of this. They are the bad guys. They started it by coming after us. It's not your fault."

"It's not my fault," Chuck repeated. "You chose to go after the Senator. This is your fault."

Sarah was frozen in shock. Her hands fell limply to her side as Chuck pulled away. The engagement ring was a lead weight on its chain around her neck, pushing the air from her lungs. She wanted to scream at him that it wasn't true. If only she hadn't come to the same conclusion already. Had her precipitous action lead to this deadly reprisal?

One of the firemen rushed from the smoking remains of the apartment. "Chief! Chief! Call the coroner. We've got bodies."

Eyes wider than she'd ever seen, Chuck turned her way. His eyelids fluttered right before he crashed to the ground, fainting on the spot.

----------

**Loa, Utah: 9 hours ago**

"I'm sorry."

It took a moment for Sarah to realize Chuck had spoken to her. After coming around, he'd sat silently as she drove. Staring straight ahead while the city lights grew brighter, she reached to clasp the ring he'd given her. Resting safely on its chain, Sarah could feel it lying over her heart. He'd resisted at first, but she finally convinced him now was not the time to wear it properly. Until then, she would keep it safe. There was still a sense of awe that something so small could affect her so deeply. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I could have offered to drive for a while." He had caught the small movement of her hand and recognized it for what it was. The air between them had been swirling with an uncomfortable tension. Chuck regretted his earlier words. Deep down, he knew this had always been a possibility after taking on the Intersect again. He was the reason everyone around him was in danger. His offer was both apology and forgiveness. He wasn't the only one to have lost today. Driving slowly through the town, his hand found hers and took firm hold. It was all they needed to set things right again.

"We should stop."

Shaking her head, Sarah disagreed, "We have only a few more hours to the rendezvous. They'll be at the fall back location."

Chuck wanted to believe the fireman had made a mistake, that no bodies had been found. He looked at her again, wondering not for the first time, if the words were for him or for her. "And they'll be there in the morning. We won't make it if you drive us off a mountain though." Spotting something ahead, he gave her a roguish smile. "Besides, I have to see Casey's reaction to spending the night there." Chuck pointed out a sign.

He was rewarded with a laugh. If only for a few moments, the weight was off her shoulders and that was worth everything to him. "That's good enough for me," Sarah said with a grin as she flicked her lights to signal the Crown Vic behind them.

After parking, Casey walked up with a bag slung over his shoulder. Pinning Chuck with his most evil glare, he rasped out, "Somehow, I think this was Bartowski's idea. You getting soft on me Walker and letting the nerd call the shots now?"

"I have no idea what you mean John. Tactically it makes sense to not overextend ourselves. This presented us a perfect opportunity to get some much needed rest." To her credit, Sarah said it all and kept a straight face. Reaching out, she took Chuck's hand and they waltzed to the hotel doors. Forrest and Casey shared annoyed looks, did not hold hands, and most assuredly marched along in their wake with a proper military manner.

As the doors swung open, a portly gentleman rose from behind a desk and smiled widely. "Welcome, welcome at this late hour. Oh my, such lovely ladies and their men. Where are my manners, excuse me. My name is Theodore. I hope you will enjoy your stay with us, here at The Snuggle Inn." His smile dimmed for a few seconds when Casey and Alex grunted in harmony.

----------

**The Snuggle Inn; Loa, Utah: 1 hour ago**

Chuck burst through the door connecting their room to Casey and Alex's. "Come on people, I didn't think agents slept in when they were on the run. We have to get to Grand Junction and meet up with everyone." He came to a sudden and awkward halt. "Umm, not that I'm an expert, but isn't only one person supposed to be handcuffed to the bed.?" On his second look, Chuck noticed the gags and a rather large lump under the covers between the two. "Sarah!!!"

Gun leading the way, she entered the room, eyes searching for any threat. Reassured there was no immediate danger, Sarah turned to see what Chuck was pointing at. Having pulled down the bedspread, a rather large and nasty looking bomb was revealed for all to see. She'd never encountered anything like it. The only familiar part was the bright red display proclaiming they had 32 minutes left. "Tommy I presume?" Sarah asked as she pulled off their gags.

"Yeah, he was waiting in our room when we returned from dinner," Casey growled.

Forrest took over the explanation, "We were hit with tranq darts and woke up like this."

Pulling out her keys, Sarah reached up to undo the cuffs. "Good thing there's still plenty of time to get you two out of this mess."

"Hold it, Walker; we're part of the trigger," snapped Casey.

Jumping in to the conversation, Chuck spoke rapidly, "He's right, Sarah. I just flashed on it. See those handles they're attached to. Casey and Forrest are part of the trigger circuit, like a couple of big resistors. As long as they stay in contact, a trickle of current keeps flowing." Following his explanation, she noted two metal rods sticking from the bomb case. Each agent had a hand tie-wrapped to one of the rods. "The hand cuffs complete the circuit. If you separate them, the current stops and the bomb blows up."

Thinking quickly, Sarah unplugged a nearby lamp and cut the cord off. "What if we bridge the contacts with this?"

"It would be a good idea, but for one little detail. The device also looks for too much current. Attach someone to the bomb and turn up the heat. As he starts to perspire, skin resistance goes down and the electrical current starts to rise. A person could literally sweat themselves to death while watching the timer count down," Chuck provided gloomily.

"Who would come up with something so outlandish just to kill a person?" Alex asked.

"Who? The same guy who thought assassination by flooding an elevator was a cool idea. Our Ring buddies must have been on the Laszlo mailing list." Chuck was staring at the device, lost in thought.

Casey turned to Sarah. "Walker, get the kid and get out of here."

"No, we're leaving together." Chuck grabbed the cord from Sarah's hand. "He didn't beat us before and he's not going to win now. I need a knife and a phone book."

Wordlessly, Sarah handed over one of her knives. She started pulling out drawers to comply with his other request.

"Chuck, I don't know what you're thinking, but we don't have time for this." Casey looked on dubiously from the bed.

Forrest added in her opinion. "I agree with Colonel Casey. The asset should be removed from the vicinity immediately."

"On the contrary Casey, according to the timer we still have 28 minutes. The asset is staying," Chuck said absently as he concentrated on the task at hand. First he cut the cord in half. Taking the two sections, he stripped insulation off the ends of both segments. Sarah handed over a phone book and Chuck gave her back the knife. "Thanks. Can you cut me about four strips of cloth from a pillowcase?"

"Umm, yeah, sure." Sarah knew they needed to get out of there. After all that had happened, she couldn't deny him an attempt at saving their comrades. Whatever was in his head, she would let him try as long as it didn't endanger him unnecessarily.

"Just what are you doing, Bartowski?" Agent Forrest asked, confused by his odd commands.

"We need a resistor to take the place of you two. So, I'm going to make us one," Chuck explained as he worked. Ripping two pages from the phone book, he laid them on the table. Next, he placed one of the bared wires on top and rolled it in the paper. After a couple turns, he took up the other wire and rolled that into his makeshift resistor as well. He held the paper tight while instructing Sarah to use the strips of cloth and tie it in place. "Ta-da, instant resistor. Actually, paper is more of an insulator, but this stuff is thin and impregnated with ink."

The others looked apprehensively at his paper tube and lamp cord creation. "Now, Agent Forrest, grab hold of Casey's arm and hold on tight. Sarah, I want you to unlock the handcuffs. That way the circuit will be maintained." Carefully, Chuck wrapped one end of the lamp cord around the handle Casey gripped while Sarah freed them from the cuffs. Her knife made short work of the tie-wraps as well. Finished, she stepped away from the bed.

"Bartowski, wait! What happens if you've got this wrong?" Casey looked him in the eye as he spoke.

"The bomb would blow up. I'm not wrong; this will work." Chuck fidgeted under his gaze.

"That's good enough for me," Casey said, surprising everyone in the room. "But, I'm going to be the one to connect the other end. Am I right to assume the timer will still set this thing off? Chuck, you need to go pull the fire alarm, get the other guests out of here. Wait for Walker in the hall. We don't need you running off and getting into more trouble."

"Anything you say, Colonel. You can thank me in Colorado." Chuck gave a small salute to his teammates, causing both to groan in annoyance. He left the room and shortly they heard the fire alarm screaming to life.

"He's coming for you next, Walker. The bastard is enjoying this too. Promise me you'll kill him slow and painfully." Casey gave Sarah a hard stare. "It's been an honor to be your partner."

"Same to you, John. You too, Alex. We'll see you both at the motel in Grand Junction."

Looking dubiously at the roll of paper and wire, Casey said, "Yeah, see you there. Now get going. I'll give you ten minutes head start."

Sarah joined Chuck in the hallway. They fell in with the flow of guests as they rushed to the nearby exits. Leading him to the car, she kept her eyes peeled for Tommy or any other suspicious individuals. As a last precaution, she called 911 and reported a bomb at The Snuggle Inn. That should keep the building clear long enough.

In his lap, Chuck's phone was ticking down the final minutes on the bomb. "Eleven to go. They should be out of there by now, right?" Turning to take another look at the hotel, barely discernible at this distance.

"Yes, I'm sure they are. Now, help me find the sign for highway 72 or we won't beat them to the rendezvous."

"No worries, my navigating skills are legendary. This one time Morgan and I were..."

_**Boooommmm!!!!**_

_**----------**_

**Highway 72, Utah: 20 minutes ago**

The car was still there. He was holding way back, but the twisting of the road brought him into view often enough to be conspicuous. They were being tailed. She didn't need to guess at who it could be. Apparently, he'd decided the cat and mouse games were nearly over.

"Let's go over it one more time."

"Sarah, really, again?"

"Yes, Chuck, again. I have to make sure you know it by heart"

Huffing at her insistence, Chuck started rattling off the information, "If separated we are supposed to make our way to the Super 8 Motel in Grand Junction Colorado and wait for two days. At no time do we use credit cards or try and contact the others by phone."

Using a firm tone to impress on Chuck how important this was, Sarah questioned, "And do you have the emergency cash I gave you?"

"Yes, I have it."

"Good. Now, what names are you going to be looking for?"

This time, Chuck turned to face her, obviously insulted. "Seriously? I'm the one that came up with all the names for this and you're testing my knowledge?"

Her shoulders relaxing, she said more gently, "Humor me please. When it comes to you and your safety, I need to know that everything is covered."

"I know, Sarah. It's just......I know." Steadying himself, Chuck prepared to recite the names of people he never expected to see again. "First, our favorite couple, Casey and Forrest. They will check in as Bruce Banner and Jennifer Walters. Roan is Tony Stark of course. Carina makes a pretty good Felicia Hardy. Dev....I can't."

"Keep going Chuck, you can do it. Devon and Ellie...."

Looking out the window, Chuck continued, "Devon and Ellie are traveling as Johnny Storm and Frankie Raye. You are Mary Jane Watson, and I will check in as Peter Parker."

Another glance into the rear view mirror confirmed they still had a shadow. She couldn't put it off any longer. "That's good, Chuck. You've got it all down perfectly. You'll be fine."

"Don't you mean we'll be fine?"

In answer, Sarah lifted the ring and chain from around her neck and handed it to him. "It's necessary Chuck. Believe me, if there was any other choice, I'd take it. I need you to make your way to the motel on your own while I lead Tommy away."

Uncomprehending, Chuck looked between her and the ring. "What if he comes for me instead?"

"He won't. Not until I'm out of the way. Look at what he's doing. The Ring doesn't just want you, they want you alone, defenseless. Taking away your family, your protectors, they intend to break your will. Trust me, once he's taken care of, I'll come straight to the motel as we've planned."

"Then why are you giving me this? Chuck held up the ring, it swung and sparkled between them. "You're not coming back are you?"

Sarah turned to look at him, hurt evident on her face. "No, that's not it at all. It's a guarantee I am coming back. You gave the ring to me. It's mine and nothing will keep me from returning to get it from you."

Offering it to Sarah, he said, "I have a better plan. We don't split up and you keep the ring."

"Dammit Chuck, just take it and stop being so difficult." He had to choose now to be a stubborn ass. "You don't think this is hard on me too? You'll be out there without any protection. Trust me when I say this is the only way. This will work and then we won't have to worry about him ever again."

"No. We are not splitting up and that's final," Chuck snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

Gripping the wheel tighter, Sarah shot back, "For once, can't you just do what I say? Please Chuck, take the ring; keep it safe for me. I promise to come back for it."

"Why do we have to separate?" Chuck asked, his tones less heated.

"Believe me, I don't want to either. Because of the Intersect, we both know you're the only one he's not gunning for. When Tommy comes for me, I'll need to be totally focused. I can't be worried that you'll get caught in a crossfire." Sparing a moment, Sarah looked over at Chuck. "After I've dealt with Tommy, I'll find you, get my ring back and we'll go off grid with the rest of the team."

"The rest of the team." Chuck said with a mirthless laugh. "Fine, I'll take it."

"Good. Now, be ready. I'm only going to be able to stop for a split second to let you out."

----------

**Highway 72, Utah: Now**

Sneaking glances into her mirror, Sarah watched Chuck disappear among the boulders and scree at the side of the road. She hated leaving him behind, but for once, he might actually be safer without her. In her mind, she was certain that the Ring wanted to use Chuck for their own ends. Tommy was too much of a loose cannon though. There was every reason for her to believe he would end them both when he came for her. She couldn't let that happen. When he made his move, Chuck wouldn't be in the line of fire.

"Be safe Chuck."

Shifting fluidly, Sarah sent her Porsche rocketing through one corner after another. If the situation wasn't so fraught with danger, she'd be enjoying this. Put the top down; buckle in tight; challenge the mountains to a duel. Of course, Chuck would probably be white-knuckling the armrest and door handle. _Chuck_. Just thinking his name sent her gaze to the passenger seat, now empty. A sparkle caught her eye. He'd left her diamond ring. He wasn't expecting to see her again. As tears threatened, Sarah leaned over to snag the jostling chain.

_**Crassshhh....**_

The bullet tore through her rear window with ease. Zipping along its deadly path, the missile impacted the back of her headrest and plowed through unhindered, trajectory only slightly altered by leather and foam. The steel-jacketed projectile flew impotently through the space her head had occupied before her lunge for the ring. Sarah felt a momentary burning sensation when it grazed her shoulder. Not to be denied, the bullet slammed into the steering column in an effort to complete its mission.

Head down for protection from a follow up shot, Sarah jerked at the frozen steering wheel. "Come on....come on....Dammit, turn baby." Coaxing a response as she heaved against the immobile controls, she was only too aware of her position on the road.

_**Snap!**_

"Oh crap!" she yelled as the wheel spun freely in her hands. Feeling her tires lose their grip, the car dipped and spun through the apex of the curve. Frantic, Sarah clawed at the seat belt. She might not survive leaving the car at this speed, but a trip over the cliff's edge was certain death. Finding the button, she pushed while the car crossed from asphalt to gravel. Heading for the guardrail sideways, Sarah slid free of the seat belt as her Porsche rose up on two wheels. With a tremendous collision, she was peppered with glass from the side windows. Already tilted, the car continued upward into a full on flip, over the railing and out into open air.

Desperation gave her the strength to throw herself out the window as the car started to fall. Straining, she flung her hands at the rock face, watching it slip past her fingertips more and more quickly while staying just out of reach.

"Ooof!" Sarah gasped in pain and surprise. Doubled over, she was wrapped around the gnarled trunk of a tree thrusting out from a crack in the rocky surface. Among the pains that clamored for her attention, one was caused by the tight loops of a chain and ring cutting into the skin of her hand. Drawing her legs in, Sarah balanced herself against the stone and wood. Placing the necklace back where it belonged, the familiar weight drove away any other ills. She could hurt later, for now, Chuck needed her.

Sarah looked up and let her training take over. Scanning the expanse of rock above her, soon she had a path picked out that would bring her back to the road. Grabbing the first handhold, she pulled herself up. Free-climbing, she kept her gaze up, always up. Hands and toes working in concert allowed her to scale the cliff quickly. Even so, she'd fallen a good ways. Her goal seemed to stay so far away.

Muscles burning, she heaved herself onto solid ground. Sucking in air, she allowed herself a few seconds to recover. Using the mangled guardrail for support, she rose to her feet. Casting her gaze back down the roadway, Sarah recognized their pursuer's car parked near Chuck's hiding spot. On unsteady legs, she stumbled more than jogged back onto the roadway. Her gait smoothing and speed increasing with every image her mind flashed before her eyes. Picture after picture of Tommy torturing Chuck lent the strength she needed.

It was the sounds that reached her first. Odd, inhuman vocalizations would occasionally echo her way. Drawing closer, she could make out two figures; one on the ground and one leaning over. Her mental imagery grew more vivid and disturbing with the very real addition of noises a person should not be able to make. Drawing closer, Sarah was even more disturbed. All her worry was out the window, replaced by a new and even more sickening feeling. Chuck. Her funny, gentle, goofy Chuck. He was the one doing the torturing.

Bile soured her throat as Tommy mewled and begged for him to stop. Sarah remembered past incidences with the Intersect overpowering him. She'd always been the one to pull him back. Seeing her die must have been too much, now that stupid programming was running amok. Her Chuck would never do these things willingly. Coming to a stop, she spied Tommy's pistol in the dirt. Sarah picked it up, flicked the safety off and chambered a round.

"Chuck, step away. I've got him covered."

Her words hit like a physical blow. His hands stopped what they were doing. "Sarah?"

"Yes, it's Sarah. He missed. Come to me now." She spoke in slow and soothing tones. "Chuck, everything is going to be all right. Tommy can't hurt us anymore."

"I know. We made sure of that. The Intersect and I."

"Are you replacing me? I thought you and I were a team?" Sarah took a step closer as she spoke.

"We were.....No, that's not right. We are." Like a dog coming in from the rain, Chuck shook bodily. "Oh my God!" He fell backwards, scrambling away from the broken man. He reached her side still on his knees. Wrapping his arms around her legs, Chuck pressed his face to her thigh and cried. "I saw your car go over the edge, I thought you were gone. He showed up and it got so cold...so cold... It was like watching a movie. Thank you for coming back. Thank you, Sarah."

Running her fingers through his hair, Sarah let him get it all out. She felt queasy looking at Tommy shuddering in the dirt. In her career, she'd done and seen a lot. To be honest, she didn't want to know what Chuck had been doing. It was brutally effective and like nothing she'd ever heard of. One more reason Chuck needed to get away from the Intersect forever. How many times could this happen before even he was damaged beyond repair.

Tommy looked up at her, a plea in his eyes.

"Chuck, cover your ears. Can you do that for me?" Sarah raised the pistol.

He nodded and complied, turning away.

"Thank you Agent Walker," Tommy forced the words through twitching lips.

"Go to hell."

_**Bang!**_

----------

**Command Center, Ring West Coast Facility**

"Sir, Tommy has been neutralized."

"Put it up on the main screen," the shift supervisor ordered. He walked between the banks of control stations to a better viewing point. Surveillance images from another operation were quickly replaced by a satellite transmission dedicated to tracking the Intersect. After a few moments of study, he turned to his assistant. "Get a hold of the Chairman and pass on this information. We'll need to assign..."

"Sir!" another of the operators yelled in surprise. One by one, the monitors were switching to the same static screen. The central display was the last to change.

_**"I'm in your system. Now it's my turn."**_

"What the hell?" the supervisor sputtered.

As they watched, the message faded away to be replaced by the sign of the hunter. They didn't have long to look at it before the room was plunged into darkness.


	16. The End Part I

Author's Note: _Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa for the long delay in posting this chapter. But we are nearing the end and I had lots of plot threads to analyze and try to wrap up. Because of that, my chapter is being posted in two parts (well, that and the fact that not all of it is written yet). Thanks to __**Poa**__ and __**MySoapBox**__ for editing and especially to MSB for being patient with me._

CHUCK VERSUS THE TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE,

NO GOOD, REALLY BAD DAY

Chapter 16

by Timewalker05

The End – Part I

**Super 8 Motel, Grand Junction, Colorado**

The door to the motel banged open. Jessica popped the bubblegum bubble she had been blowing with a loud 'pop' and finished the paragraph she had been reading in the Harold Robbins novel. She really hated that they monitored her computer usage so she couldn't use the reception desk computers to check her Twitter feeds or Facebook accounts. The job really sucked, but then again, there weren't a lot of jobs to be had in Grand Junction. There wasn't much of anything in Grand Junction. How she longed for something – anything – exciting. Like that was ever going to happen.

Setting down the book, she automatically glanced up at the security monitor – and frowned. The monitor was nothing but static. Either all the cameras were down, or the stupid monitor was on the fritz again.

Jessica gave the monitor a sharp whack, and now the snow on the screen started rolling across vertically instead of horizontally. She shook her head dismissively. She'd have to tell Raul about it later.

Finally, she turned to the person standing at the reception desk… and involuntarily took a step back.

In other circumstances, the woman might have been pretty. Gorgeous even. But her hair was disheveled, her clothes were torn, and her face was smudged with dirt, grease, and something else that looked a lot like dried blood. She might have still been pretty for all that, but it was her eyes… there was a hardness, a coldness in her eyes that sent an involuntary shudder down Jessica's spine. Jessica had seen eyes like that before. One time, at the high school, they had brought in some convicts to talk to the students – sort of a 'scared straight' kind of thing. The one who said he had killed somebody. He had eyes like that.

"Can… Can I help you?" Jessica stammered.

Sarah saw the fear in the girl's eyes and gave her head a little shake to clear it. Just like that, the killer was gone and she put on her 'scared, tired, and hurt' face. "Hi," she said in a voice appropriate to the persona. "We… my boyfriend and I… we had an accident on the road outside of town. Our car was totaled, but they gave us this loaner. Anyway, neither of us is really in any shape to be driving, and the nice state trooper suggested we stay here tonight. Do you have a room?"

"Oh, um, yes. Of course," Jessica said, suddenly feeling a little guilty for her earlier comparison of this poor woman to a cold-blooded killer. "Do you have a reserva… oh, of course not. Name?"

"Mary Jane Watson," Sarah said.

Jessica giggled. "Oh, like that character Kirsten Dunst played in that Spiderman movie. You know, I wish I had red hair like that… Sorry. Not important. Address?"

Sarah gave a fake address in northern Ohio. A place she and her father had lived years and years ago while he was running a con at Wright Patterson Air Force Base.

Jessica's long fingernails clacked on the computer keyboard. "And how long will you be staying?" she asked.

"Oh, three or four days," Sarah said. She didn't intend to stay in one place more than a day or two, but it was best to leave a false trail, indicating you intended to return in case anyone came snooping.

"We'll need a credit card for the room and for any incidentals," the young motel clerk said.

"Oh dear," Sarah said. "I lost my purse in the accident. Is cash okay?" She pulled out a wad and peeled off some bills. She hated to use her cash to pay for the extra days they wouldn't be using, but there were ways of getting more.

"Two keys?" Jessica asked.

Sarah nodded, glancing back out at Tommy's car idling out front with Chuck slumped in the passenger's seat. "Oh," she said. "Could we get a room around back? I'm a light sleeper and sometimes the traffic noise keeps me awake."

"Sure," Jessica said, tapping on the computer some more. "Here you go," she said, handing Sarah a little paper folder with two plastic card keys. There was a Dominos Pizza ad on them and a room number written on the inside sleeve of the folder. "There's your room number." She pointed at a map taped to the counter. "Your room's right here. You can drive around back and park here," she tapped at a spot on the map. "Second floor. Complimentary breakfast from six to ten. There are ice machines and vending machines on the first level."

"Thank you," Sarah said, taking the keys. She turned to go, then stopped and turned back to the counter. "You know, we lost all our clothes in the accident. Is there a thrift store or something around here where we can get some more?"

"There's a Goodwill over on Patterson," Jessica said, "right by the Mesa Village Shopping Center."

"Thanks, again," Sarah said.

"Sorry to hear about your accident!" Jessica called as Sarah hurried out of the door.

Sarah slipped behind the wheel of the stolen Chrysler. Well, not exactly stolen, since Tommy wouldn't be needing it anymore. She glanced over at Chuck. His eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn't asleep. His skin was sallow and his visage was screwed up into a grimace, as if he was in pain.

She touched him gently on the arm and he flinched, but he didn't open his eyes. "Our room's around back, Mr. Parker," she said softly. "At least we can get cleaned up."

Chuck grunted, but didn't open his eyes.

Sarah blinked away a tear and pulled the car around the back of the motel. She turned off the car and got out. She eyed the vehicle critically. She had gone over it carefully, looking for any kind of tracking device and had found none, but it would be best to ditch it and find another. Which, of course, meant stealing one.

Funny. A week ago, the thought would have given her a twinge of guilt, thanks to the last two years with Chuck, the Moralist. Now? An image of the gun jumping in her hands as she shot Tommy popped into her mind. Now – not so much.

She opened the passenger side door. Chuck didn't move. She squatted down next to the open door. "Come on Chuck. We need to get inside."

He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her. She gasped. The light was gone from his eyes. Through it all – through madmen with guns, through potential bunkerization, through being dangled off buildings, through having to lie to his sister and his friends – there had always been something quintessentially 'Chuck' in his eyes. A twinkle, a spark, a little hint of humor or mischief. That was gone now. His eyes were dead. It was like looking into the eyes of one of those animatronic dummies they used for training at Langley.

Sarah suppressed a shudder and pulled him out of the car. "Come on, Chuck. Let's get you inside. You need rest. You need to sleep."

Sarah slipped under his arm to help him up the stairs. He muttered something so low, she couldn't quite make it out.

"What was that, Chuck?" she asked, grateful that he was at least talking. He hadn't said a word on the entire drive into Grand Junction.

"Never gonna sleep again," he mumbled. "Whenever I close my eyes, I see them. That guy I shot. La Cuidad. And now Tommy." He choked back a little sob.

Now was not the time to discuss it. Sarah merely pulled him up the stairs to their room. She fumbled to get out the card key. It took three tries before it clicked open the lock. Pushing the door open, she shuffled over to the bed and eased Chuck onto it. He lay down and curled up in the fetal position.

Sarah looked down at him with clenched fists, fighting off her rising anger. Anger at Tommy. Anger at the Intersect. Anger at the CIA. And yes, anger at Chuck.

**Honolulu International Airport, Honolulu, Hawaii**

The dented Lincoln Town Car screeched to a halt in front of the terminal, causing several heads to swivel. The driver's door opened and a bald man with what seemed a permanent scowl bolted out and jerked open the left rear door.

"Out, Grimes!" Harry Tang barked. "Get out!"

"Wow," Morgan said. "Surliest chauffer I've ever seen."

Harry Tang reached in the car and pulled out two tickets. "Go home, Grimes. You do not belong in Hawaii. You cannot handle Hawaii. You're too soft for Hawaii." He slapped the tickets in Morgan's hand.

"But… But my dream!" Morgan whined.

"Can it, Morgan," Anna said, climbing out of the car. She was bruised from the car chase and in a foul temper. "I want to go home. Let's go!" She grabbed the tickets out of Morgan's hand and stomped off.

"But sweetie…" Morgan's voice trailed off as he disappeared into the terminal.

Harry pulled out his phone and sent a two word text. "Mission Accomplished."

**Super 8 Motel, Grand Junction Colorado**

Sarah took a deep breath and slowly unclenched her fists. Slowly, she lowered herself onto the bed next to Chuck. His body shook with sobs and she reached out to gently rub his back. She reached out a hand and gently rubbed his back.

"Talk to me, Chuck," she said softly.

Chuck's voice came out in ragged gasps. "I should have let them kill me."

"What?!" Sarah asked sharply.

"Tommy. The Ring. Whoever. I should have let them kill me."

Sarah grabbed Chuck's shoulder and roughly pulled him to face her. "Don't you _ever_ talk like that!" she snapped.

"You should go," Chuck said. "You're not safe here. I'm not safe to be around. They're all dead. Everyone's dead. All because of me. And Tommy…" he shuddered. "Sarah, I…"

Sarah pulled Chuck toward her and wrapped him tightly in her arms. "No, Chuck. It's not your fault. You can't think that way. You can't…"

"Now I am become death,'" Chuck whispered. "'The Destroyer of Worlds.'" Then he began sobbing again.

Sarah wrapped her arms more tightly around him and rocked him back and forth until, in his anguish and exhaustion, he fell asleep.

**Los Angeles International Airport, Los Angeles, California**

The wheels of the 747 screeched when they bounced once, and then twice before the great Morgan-carrying airliner settled onto the runway. The engines roared as the pilots cut in the thrust reversers and slowed the plane to taxi toward the terminal.

For Morgan Grimes, it had been a very long flight. Anna hadn't said a dozen words to him the entire flight. Maybe he shouldn't have tried to point out that it really was all her fault for hooking up with that Jason Wang loser in the first place…

As soon as the flight attendant said that it was safe to use cell phones, Morgan whipped his out and called Chuck. "Chuck! You're never gonna believe what happened! This is Morgan, by the way. We were kidnapped! Harry Tang rescued us. He's like, some secret agent kind of guy in Hawaii. It was so cool! Anyway, I'm gonna have to crash at your place for a couple days because I already moved out of my Mom's house and Big Mike was turning my bedroom into some kind of fly tying workshop so I…" he was interrupted by the beep indicating the voicemail had run out of recording time.

Anna glared at him. "It was not 'cool', Morgan. I could have been killed!"

"Not to worry, sweetums," Morgan said, stroking her arm. "I would have protected you. Oh! I need to call my Mom!"

**Buy More, Burbank, California**

All was right with the world. Last night, Bolonia had rocked his world (again… and again… and…). She seemed to have forgotten about his profession of love at the luau, and they were back to rolling in the hay.' Morgan was in Hawaii so he could quit feeling so guilty about diddling his momma (not that he felt all that guilty anyway). He was back in charge at the Buy More and that back-stabbing weasel Emmett had gotten what was coming to him. Norman was back on the wall of his office. And (perhaps most important) he had made it to Big Martha's Donut Palace just as they were taking the donuts out of the fryer. Nothing like hot, fresh donuts to start off the day. Or end the day, for that matter. Heck, hot fresh donuts were perfect anytime. Yes, all was right with the world.

Funny how fast things could change.

Big Mike strolled into the store, the warmth of the remaining donuts seeping through the box and into his hand. Both his shirt collar and his vest were buttoned. The only good thing about having to work in the trenches while Emmett managed the store was that he had lost ten pounds from all the appliance moving, vomit mopping, and general running around.

He was just about to pass the Nerd Herd desk when two heads popped up from behind the counter. One head was covered in long, greasy black hair. The other was bald on top, with a halo of riotous hair splaying out from the sides. 'God, I miss Bartowski,' Big Mike thought, not for the first time.

"Good morning, big man," Lester said.

"The answer's no," Big Mike growled and kept walking.

Lester jumped out from behind the counter and scurried across the floor to block Big Mike's path.

"My leader, my liege, my… I'm out of l's… Big Mike, you haven't even heard…"

"Whatever it is, the answer's still no," Big Mike said, and moved to step around Lester to continue on to his office.

"But no one's seen Roan Montgomery since…" Lester started.

"Nobody's seen him since the luau," Jeff slurred. "You know, I gotta find out what they put in that punch. It packed a wicked… punch."

Lester glared at Jeff and then turned back to Big Mike. "All I'm saying, sir, is that if you just give me a chance…"

"Had your chance," Big Mike said. "You blew it. And you injured Norman in the process. I don't like it when someone _messes_ with my _fish_."

"I can assure you, sir," Lester said quickly. "That unfortunate incident was not a true measure of my management abilities. You see, my leadership was undermined by…"

"They're back," Jeff said loudly.

Lester turned back to see what Jeff was talking about, and Big Mike took the opportunity to slip around him, dart past him into his office, and slam the door. Lester looked up, gave a little throaty cry, and then wheeled around to confront Jeff. "What are you talking about now, you cretin?"

Jeff pointed to a man in a dark suit, a skinny black tie, and dark sunglasses looking at the frozen daiquiri machines. "So?" Lester said, exasperated. "The man obviously is looking to entertain his friends and add life to his boring parties by being the first on his block with a thrillin', chillin' home daiquiri machine. Which also makes delicious frozen margaritas."

Instead of responding, Jeff pointed to an identically dressed man looking at the Beastmasters. "Mere coincidence. They must shop at the same…" Lester started. But Jeff pointed to a third person – a woman this time – also dressed in a dark suit, skinny black tie, and dark sunglasses pretending to study the Jonas Brothers display, but her eyes darted around the store.

"Ahhh," Lester said.

"They were here yesterday," Jeff said. "And the day before. I think they're agents."

"Jeffrey, don't be ridicu…" Lester started to say.

"Agents of the Matrix here to find out which of us took the red pill and which of us took the blue pill," Jeffrey continued, eyeing the woman.

Skip, he of the Napoleon Dynamite hairdo, sidled up to the desk. "What's with the 'Agent Smith' clones?" he asked.

"Did you take the red pill or the blue pill?" Jeff asked.

Lester frowned and started toward the woman by the Jonas Brothers display. After all, she looked pretty darned fit under that suit. When she saw Lester starting toward her, she jerked her head over toward the man by the Beastmasters and gave a curt nod. He, in turn, nodded to the man by the daiquiri machines. Before Lester could reach her, the woman and the two men turned and hurried from the store.

"That was creepy," Skip said to Fernando, who had walked over to lean on the Nerd Herd counter. Fernando nodded.

"I think we need to warn Big Mike," Jeff said.

Lester walked up. "They're obviously up to no good," Lester said. "Otherwise, how could she resist my animalistic charm?"

Big Mike gave a little moan of pleasure as he stuffed the warm Boston Crème into his mouth. Nothing like enjoying a hot, fresh donut in the privacy of his own office. He half-closed his eyes and took another bite, just as someone started banging on the door.

"Mphmphstmphh," he said, then he swallowed and yelled, "What is it?"

The door to his office opened. Jeff and Lester filled the office doorway, with glimpses of other green shirts and Nerd Herders visible behind them.

"I'm busy," Big Mike huffed. "Whatever it is it can wait."

"But we've got trouble right here in River City," Jeff said.

"There is a great disturbance in the Force," Lester said.

"What the hell are you morons talkin' about?" Big Mike demanded.

"Beverly Hills," Lester replied.

Big Mike jumped to his feet. "What about Beverly Hills?"

"They're casing the store, preparing for a retaliatory strike," Lester said. He stepped cautiously into Big Mike's office and laid a DVD case on the desk. "We checked the security footage. There's a team watching the store."

Big Mike licked the bits of donut off of his fingers and picked up the case, opening it carefully so as not to get Boston Crème filling on it. He popped it into his computer and waited for it to boot up.

Moments later, he was watching the compilation of security footage put together by Jeff and Lester. His eyes went wide as he saw one, particular bald-headed man, dressed in black, walk slowly through the store, studying every detail.

"I know him!" Big Mike sputtered. "That's the guy!"

"Excuse me, sir," Lester said. "What guy?"

"The guy!" Big Mike said, pointing to the screen. "Thanksgiving! The guy! He tried to rob the store and I put the Big Hurt on him. He must have come back for revenge. And he's brought a team with him. Obviously, he got out and he's going to try and hit the store again."

"Wha… what do we do?" Lester asked.

Big Mike puffed out his chest. "We defend what's ours. That's the Buy More way."

Lester looked nervous. Skip looked excited. And Jeff just looked drunk as always.

Big Mike thought for a moment. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. Lester. You head over to Underpants, Etc. I want you to get a dozen double-D sized bras. Lots of elastic in the bands. That's critical."

Lester's face lit up and he nodded vigorously. "On it, big man," he said and hurried from the office.

"Fernando, you head over to 'Paintballs is Us' and get me a dozen AG-11's with the extra magazines and plenty of ammo."

Fernando nodded his pudgy head and hurried away.

"Jeff. Go over to Large Mart and get us a gross of balloons and five gallons of paint."

"What color?" Jeff asked.

"Buy More green, of course," Big Mike said, as if the answer should have been obvious.

He continued making assignments until his office was empty. One more call to make. He dialed the number from memory. "Morgan, it's Big Mike. I know you just got back from Hawaii, but we got us an emergency. The store's in trouble, and I'm calling in all my markers. I need you here, Morgan. _The store_ needs you."

"Tell her it's a matter of life or death."

"Sure, you can bring her along. She's good in a fight."

"No, I was about to call him. Oh, and stop by your mama's house and get my fiddle."

Big Mike hung up the phone and nodded to himself. He knew he could count on Morgan. Sure, he had messed up the whole Emmett situation, but that only served to drive home the point that what mattered most of all was family. Well, family and fishing.

He shrugged and picked up the phone and dialed again. Bartowski was pretty much useless in a fight, but for some reason he commanded the respect of the troops. And if this was going down, he needed every warm body. Besides, Bartowski might know where John Casey was. And even if Casey did have his ass handed to him by that badass bald burglar before, he might be able to handle one or two of baldy's minions.

The phone was ringing. He waited, and then heard. "Hi. This is Chuck. I can't come to the phone right now, but if you'll leave your name and number, I'd be _happy_ to get back to you."

Big Mike grunted. He hated cheerful voicemail messages. "Chuck," he said after he heard the beep, "it's Big Mike. We got trouble at the store. I need your help. Oh, and bring John Casey."

He slammed down the phone. "Let 'em come," he muttered. We'll be ready for them."

**Super 8 Motel, Grand Junction, Colorado**

Sarah started away. She sat up, blinked the sleep away from her eyes, and cursed. How could she have fallen asleep? Sure, she was exhausted and had been operating on adrenaline for the past who knew how many days, but that was no excuse. Tommy and most of the other escapees might be dead or captured, but Lizzy and… She pressed a hand to her temple. It was still hard to think. Lizzy, Leader, Dr. Zarnow, and whoever Tommy had recruited to do his dirty work were still out there. No doubt looking for them.

She paused at the thought of Lizzy and Tommy's henchmen.

Carina.

She couldn't believe Carina was dead. She _didn't_ believe Carina was dead. She had lost track of how many times she had been told her sister was dead, only to have Carina appear, hale and hearty, with some wild tale of escaping from a Columbian drug lord's compound or an Afghani poppy-grower's harem. And if Carina was still alive, that would mean that Ellie and Devon were alive, too. She prayed it was true. For her sake as well as Chuck's. It was funny, but she thought she might actually be more relieved to find out Ellie and Devon were still alive than Carina. Ellie had begun to feel like more of a sister to her than Carina ever had.

She looked down at Chuck. He was still sleeping. That was good. He needed the rest even more than she did.

She got up, checked the door locks, and peeked out the window.

She sighed, stood, and rolled her shoulders to work out her stiff joints. She needed a hot bath and fresh clothes. Well, she couldn't do anything about the clothes right now, but she could at least take a shower and rinse off some of the grime.

She looked down at Chuck, contemplating moving him to the bed further from the door, just in case. No, she decided. Let him sleep.

She had just pulled off her shirt when there was a pounding at the door.

Chuck sat up immediately and looked over at the door, his eyes wide as saucers.

"Chuck, get in the bathtub and keep your head down," she said, pulling her shirt back on.

"Sarah…" he whispered.

"Just do it!" she hissed.

Reluctantly, Chuck crept as quietly as he could to the bathroom and closed the door. Sarah reached into her waistband and pulled out her gun. She checked her rounds. Six left. Her reloads were in her wrecked Porsche.

She flattened herself against the wall on the far side of the door, gun cocked and ready.

"Quien es?" she asked, then switched to heavily accented English, as if as an afterthought. "Who ees it?"

"Bruce Banner," came a gruff voice from the other side of the door. "Now open the damn door, Mary Jane. We're exposed out here."

Sarah let out a sigh of relief, but didn't lower her gun. She checked the peep-hole, seeing a fish-eye view of Casey and Alex Forrest. She checked the window, too. No sign of anyone else.

She flattened herself back against the wall, threw the door open, and then stepped back in perfect three point firing stance to cover the entrance.

Forrest entered first, covering the back of the room, followed closely by Casey, his gun leveled at Sarah. Sarah glanced to the doorway to make sure no one else was coming in and Casey's eyes quickly scanned the room, making sure there were no bad guys lurking in the shadows.

Casey kicked the door closed and both he and Sarah lowered their guns, while Forrest stepped back toward the bathroom.

"Where's Spiderman?" Casey asked.

As if in answer, Forrest yelped. Sarah and Casey both raised their weapons and pointed to the back of the room, where Chuck had Forrest pinned to the floor, her arm behind her back and her gun in his hand.

"Sorry," Chuck said. "Reflex."

Casey grunted in amusement, but Sarah frowned.

"Would you get off me?" Forrest asked.

Chuck released her and stood. "How did you get out?" he asked. "We heard the explosion as we were driving out of town."

Casey's face twisted into something that could almost be called a smile. "That little gismo you rigged up actually worked, at least for awhile. We managed to get out of the room and into the stairwell before the damn thing blew. Actually, that worked to our advantage. Since the room was incinerated, we figure that the Ring thinks we're dead. We laid low until time for the rendezvous and then headed here. What about you? You look like hell."

Sarah smiled. "Well, I feel like hell, but we're alive, thanks to Chuck. Tommy caught us and put a bullet into my car, but Chuck, ah, captured him."

"So where is he?" Forrest asked. "Has he been properly secured?"

Casey looked at Sarah and, seeing the look in her eyes, gave a slow nod. He turned back to Forrest. "Tommy will no longer be a problem," he said. Chuck looked down at his shoes.

"Have you heard from anyone else?" Casey asked.

Sarah shook her head slowly.

"You know Carina's alive, don't you?" Casey said. "She's too mean to die."

"We have to base our future planning on the assumption that we are operating…" Forrest started.

Casey turned and glared at her. "Shut up, Forrest."

Forrest opened her mouth as if to reply, but Casey simply said, "Chuck, take her down again."

Chuck looked aghast at the suggestion, but Forrest said nothing further.

Casey turned back to Sarah. "You got a plan, Walker?"

Sarah sighed. "Right now, I just want a shower and some clean clothes."

Casey made a show of sniffing the air. "Good idea. Give the geek a bath, too. Forrest and I will go get you some new clothes. I saw a thrift store on the way into town." He turned to Forrest. "Let's go."

He paused at the doorway and dug something out of his coat pocket. "Here. Burned phone. It's got my number programmed into it under 'Bruce.' We'll be back in a few."

He tossed Sarah the phone and she caught it. "Thanks." Once they were out the door, she walked over to Chuck. "Come on. Let's get cleaned up."

"Sarah," Chuck said. "I don't…"

She laid a finger across his lips. "Shhh. We can talk later. Right now, I really want a shower." She smiled. "And you can scrub my back."

**Buy More, Burbank, California**

Big Mike assembled the 'troops' in their customary line in the front of the store. He loudly cracked his knuckles while he looked up and down the line. "Listen up, people. This is it. The real deal. The time to _step up_ and show what we're made of. We are under siege, people. Now is the time to defend our way of life and all we hold dear. It'll be a long, bloody struggle, but we will come out victorious. Because that's the Buy More way."

He began to pace along the length of the line. "Now I know that you all are a bunch of slackers and misfits. Hell, some of you can barely spell Buy More. But this store is our home. It's our territory and I will defend it to your last breath. Now if anyone isn't man enough for this fight, I need to know now. I need you to step forward and show everyone else what a lily-livered coward you are."

Jeff and Lester looked at each other, and together took a step forward. Big Mike glared at them. "Get back in line. You're not going anywhere."

Sheepishly, the two took a step back.

The doors to the store open and Morgan came rushing in, a violin case under his arm. Anna trailed a step behind him. He had put on his Buy More shirt, and she was dressed in her Nerd Herder outfit. "Am I late for the party?" Morgan asked.

Big Mike swallowed the lump in his throat and clamped Morgan on the shoulder, causing the shorter, bearded man to wince. "I'm glad to see you, son. You're going to be my second in command." He turned to the assembled Buy Morons. "Now, here's our plan…"

**Super 8 Motel, Gran Junction, Colorado**

Sarah stepped out of the bathroom, a towel around her torso while she rubbed her hair with another. She couldn't exactly say she felt clean. She wasn't sure she would ever feel clean again. But at least she felt _clean-er_.

Chuck stepped out of the bathroom behind her, rubbing the stubble on his face. "Do you think Casey will think to pick up a razor and toothbrush?" he asked. "Maybe I could call him…"

Sarah rubbed a hand along his chin. "I think you look kind of sexy with that whole unshaven look," she said playfully.

Chuck smiled back at her, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. Sarah sighed. All her attempts to start something in the shower had been gently rebuffed.

"You know, Chuck," she said. "As long as…"

She froze. There was a noise at the door. Something scraping against the lock. "Get in the bathtub," she said.

"But I just…" Chuck started to say.

"Chuck," Sarah whispered, dropping the towel she had been using to dry her hair and grabbing her gun from atop the pile of her clothes. "There's someone at the door."

"Oh, Chuck said, darting back into the bathroom. "Be careful, Sarah," he pleaded.

Sarah stepped gingerly over to the door. It burst suddenly open, the small security chain tearing out of the doorjamb. Sarah dove behind the bed and trained her gun on the door just as a black-suited figure dove through and rolled, coming to a stop in a kneeling crouch with a gun pointed at Sarah.

Sarah's eyes went wide. "_Carina_?"

The figure stood up and pulled off its black hood, revealing the long, auburn hair. "Hiya, sis," Carina replied.

Sarah leapt toward Carina. For once, Carina wasn't able to avoid Sarah's onslaught. But instead of their typical rough-and-tumble, Sarah threw her arms around Carina and hugged her tight. "Oh God," she breathed. "I thought I'd lost you."

Chuck poked his head out of the bathroom and yelled, "Carina!"

Carina pulled away from Sarah and grinned. "Hi, Chuckles. You act surprised to see me."

"The fire," Sarah said. "At the apartment. They said they found three bodies."

"Only three?" Carina asked, non-pulsed. "I guess they haven't found the other two yet."

"Carina," Chuck choked out. "Ellie? Devon?"

There was a shriek from the doorway. "Chuck! You're alive!"

Ellie ran into the room and grabbed Chuck, hugging him hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

"Honey, I told you," a deep voice came from the doorway, where Devon was standing with a load of bags. "It's Peter Parker. You have to use the code names."

Ellie ignored him. She was clinging to Chuck as if trying to hold him here lest he disappear any moment. Chuck blinked mixed tears of joy and pain: joy at finding that his sister was alive, and pain because she was crushing his ribs.

"El…" he gasped. "Can't breathe."

Ellie released him, took a step back, and slapped him so hard he staggered back a step.

"Ow!" Chuck cried, rubbing his rapidly reddening cheek.

Fury blazed in Ellie's eyes. "Three years!" she cried. "For almost three years you've been this secret agent… thing… and you didn't tell me. _You didn't tell me_!" She started pacing around, punctuating her words with exaggerated hand gestures. "All this time, I was worried that you were wasting your life at the Buy More, when I should have been worried that you were getting shot… or kidnapped… or God knows what! Chuck, I knew you had started keeping secrets from me but… Chuck, I'm your sister!"

Chuck looked down at his shoes. "I'm sorry, Ellie."

"And don't even get me started about my wedding!" Ellie continued. Suddenly, she stopped and grabbed Chuck again. "I'm just glad you're alive. I've been so worried."

Chuck hugged her back. "So was I," Chuck replied. "I mean, I stopped at the apartment. They found those bodies…"

Sarah turned to Carina. "What happened? At the apartment, I mean."

Devon dropped the bags and grinned at his wife. "Chuck," he said. "Your sister is _awesome_!"

**Casa Bartowski, Echo Park, California, three days ago**

Ellie flopped onto Chuck's bed. Her head was spinning. Chuck was missing, Devon was acting really weird, and now this Carina person, who insisted she was Sarah's sister, was treating her like a prisoner in her own home. Carina had insisted that she and Devon cancel their shifts at work and stay home. She wouldn't explain why, only that it had something to do with Chuck.

Suddenly, the television flickered on. Ellie frowned and looked over at it, the picture merely a random collection of ones and zeros cascading down the screen. She shook her head. Chuck and his weird electronic toys. She turned and picked up the remote, when a voice came from the television. "Eleanor."

Ellie jerked her head over to the television. The ones and zeros slowly resolved into something approximating a human face. Ellie pushed back on the bed, unconsciously distancing herself from the television.

"Eleanor, it's me." Slowly, the strange face resolved into the haggard face of Stephen Bartowski a/k/a Orion.

Ellie's eyes went wide. "Daddy?"

"Hi, Ellie," Orion said, forcing a smile. "It's good to see you."

"Dad, what are you doing on Chuck's television?"

"It's a long story, Ellie, and I promise I will tell you all about it. But we don't have much time."

"Don't have much time?" Ellie repeated, confused. "Dad, what's wrong?"

"Charles is in trouble and I'm doing everything I can to help him out. But some bad people... people who are after me and your brother… they're on their way to your house right now. Carina's there to protect you, and she's very good, but I'm afraid they might be a little too much for her."

"But Carina… she's… Dad, what's going on?"

"I'll explain everything later, pumpkin, but right now there's no time. Ellie, I'm really, really sorry for this. I… I wanted to protect you and Charles from what I've done. From this part of my life. Chuck already got sucked into it, and I wish there was some way I…"

He paused as an urgent tone started beeping. He looked over to his left, at something out of range of the camera. "They're almost there. Just look at the screen, Ellie. Everything will be all right. I'm sorry I'm not there. I love you."

Ellie shook her head, confusion piling up on confusion.

Suddenly, there was a loud shout in the courtyard. Ellie glanced over at the Morgan door, then back at the television. "Dad?" she asked. But Orion was gone. The television was blank for a moment, then a small, white dot appeared in the center of the screen.

***

Lizzie ducked behind the stone planter as a bullet zinged off of its side, knocking a thumb-sized chunk spinning off, barely missing her head. "Give it up, Carina!" she yelled. "We have you surrounded. Give us Chuck Bartowski's sister and brother-in-law and we might even let you live."

Carina's response was another bullet that pinged off the ground mere inches from where Lizzie crouched. Lizzie looked over at one of Tommy's Fulcrum lackeys and motioned for him to work his way around behind Carina.

Breathing heavily, Carina thumbed the release, dropping her weapon's magazine into her hand. Six more rounds. She had dropped several of the attackers already, but there were at least five more left. How in the hell did she get into such a tight spot in the first place? Normally, she would pop off a couple rounds to force them to keep their heads down while she made a break for it. But she had promised Sarah she'd guard Devon and Ellie Woodcomb. This is what came of getting too attached to an assignment. Sarah had been sucked in to this crazy Burbank clan and now Carina was trapped, too.

Suddenly, there was a 'whoosh' and a smoking cylinder tumbled end-over-end over her head and crashed through the window of the apartment.

"Teargas!" Carina yelled. "Devon! Ellie! Get out!"

The tear gas canister tumbled through the window, bounced once on the floor, and rolled to the far side of the room where there sputtering flame started the drapes on fire.

Devon had been on his exercise bike, iPod blaring, all through the gun-battle outside, oblivious to the carnage just outside his door. But the smoking cylinder snapped him out of his endorphin-induced reverie. He leapt off the bike, grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch, and ran toward the flames. But the thick, white smoke pouring from the canister drove him back.

"Ellie!" he called. He held a corner of this blanket over his nose and mouth and dashed across the living room, toward the back bedrooms.

Chuck's door was open and glancing in as he ran past, Devon saw Ellie slumped on Chuck's bed. He ran in the room, threw the blanket over her head to protect her from the smoke, and scooped her up in his arms. She was already starting to stir when he kicked open the 'Morgan Door' and carried her outside.

"Don't move!" Devon felt something hard and hot pressed against the back of his neck.

Ellie moaned and wiggled in his arms. "Devon?" she moaned.

"Put her down," the gruff voice behind Devon commanded.

Slowly, Devon eased Ellie onto her feet and pulled the blanket off of her. Ellie blinked rapidly.

Devon's eyes were watering and his throat felt like he had swallowed live coals. He turned to glance over his shoulder.

A large man in a dark suit and sunglasses had a very large gun leveled at his back. Devon swallowed hard, despite the pain.

"I've got the sister and her husband!" the man yelled.

A triumphant "Yes" echoed across the courtyard, followed by the same voice calling out, "You hear that, Carina? Give yourself up or Bartowski's sister and brother-in-law will have more holes than Swiss cheese."

Carina stood, holding her gun over her head. "Swiss cheese? Really? That's the best analogy you could come up with?"

Lizzie slowly peeked over the top of the stone planter. "Drop the gun."

Carina complied, flicking the safety before tossing the gun into the fountain in the center of the courtyard. She refused to be shot by her own weapon.

Lizzie jerked her chin at the thug holding Ellie and Devon, and he prodded them into the center of the courtyard. Lizzie motioned for Carina to join them. Three more of the Fulcrum operatives emerged from hiding places, one of whose arms hung limply at his side.

Lizzie stood before the trio of captives, and her flunkeys formed a rough circle around them. Lizzie smiled. "Well, won't Tommy be pleased," she said. She looked at Ellie. "So nice to see you again, Doctor Woodcomb. I'm afraid this meeting won't be quite as pleasant as our last."

"You!" Ellie gasped.

Lizzie ignored her and turned to Carina. "I'm really sorry. Well, not really. You see, we have plans for these two," she indicated Ellie and Devon, "but you're a liability." She cocked her pistol for emphasis and pointed it at Carina's head.

The next few moments were a blur. Ellie suddenly crouched, and then sprang forward. Her tennis shoe connected with the side of Lizzie's head, sending her staggering backward, her gun flying out of her hand. Without slowing, Ellie pin-wheeled to the right and planted her foot in the center of chest of the thug to Lizzie's left. He fell back and Ellie was already delivering a spinning kick to the head of the next thug.

Carina, recovering quickly from her shock, grabbed the gun-hand of the thug behind her and pulled it toward her, twisting it violently. The gun fired, and a bullet tore into Lizzie's chest. Continuing the move, Carina snapped the gun upward and the man's wrist lurched upward with a sickening 'crack.' He screamed and fell to his knees.

By the time Carina recovered, she looked around to find the other three thugs on the ground. Ellie was standing over the last one, panting heavily.

Devon looked at her, opened mouthed. "Ellie," he gasped. "You know kung fu!"

Ellie blinked and seemed to come back to herself. She glanced over and saw red spreading across Lizzie's chest. "Oh my God!" she gasped. She scrambled over to Lizzie's side and checked her pulse. Finding none, a small, strangled cry escaped from her throat an, and she and started to administer CPR. Push. Push, Push. Breathe into Lizzie's mouth. Push. Push. Push. Breathe again. "Live, dammit!" Ellie cried.

Devon stepped over to her and pulled her away. "It's too late, honey. You can stop."

Ellie glared at him for a moment, then stopped and looked down at her blood-stained hands. "Oh God," she moaned, and then collapsed against Devon's chest with heaving sobs.

**Super 8 Motel, Gran Junction, Colorado, present**

"He didn't," Chuck gasped. "He wouldn't."


	17. The End Part II

CHUCK VERSUS THE TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE,

NO GOOD, REALLY BAD DAY

Chapter 17

by Timewalker05

The End – Part II

**Super 8 Motel, Gran Junction, Colorado**

"He didn't," Chuck gasped. "He wouldn't."

Ellie smiled and took Chuck's hand. "If you mean, did Dad upload the Intersect into me, no, he didn't. At least, not all of it. Just a small part. Enough, he said, so that I could defend myself. I was a little freaked out at first, but…"

"No!" Chuck yelled. "He had no right! Do you have any idea what the Intersect is? What is does to you? Ellie, I can't control it. It's controlling me." He voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "Ellie, I… I've… done things. Bad things. Terrible things." He dropped his voice lower so that only Ellie could hear. "Ellie… I _killed_ someone."

"Oh, Chuck," Ellie said, and pulled him into her arms.

"God, Ellie. I've done such terrible things. And now… And now you…"

"Shhhh," Ellie said. "It's all right, Chuck."

Ellie glanced over at Sarah, who sat down on the bed next to Chuck and took his hand, squeezing it gently. Chuck gripped it back so hard it hurt, but Sarah gritted her teeth and said nothing.

After a few moments, Chuck seemed to compose himself and pulled away, but he continued to hold Sarah's hand tightly.

"Dad told me that all he gave me was some kind of self-defense training," Ellie continued. "He showed me some pictures, and all of a sudden I could do kung-fu, or judo, or whatever it is. But I've been able to control it just fine. I just had this weird… flash… in my mind when those guys tried to hurt us. But nothing since then. I don't think it's changed me at all."

Chuck pulled away and slumped onto the bed. "Then it's me," he said. "It's not the Intersect. It's me. Here I thought it was the Intersect controlling me that made me… that was the reason I did those things. But maybe I really am a monster."

"Chuck!" Sarah cut in. "You're not a monster. You're the kindest, sweetest man I know."

"But…" Chuck whispered hoarsely. "La Cuidad. _Tommy_."

Devon looked over at Carina, his brows creased in confusion, but Carina merely shrugged.

Sarah grabbed Chuck's hand again and held it tighter. "Chuck, you're a good person. You've been under a lot of stress…"

"Charles Irving Bartowski!" Ellie said sternly. Startled, Chuck looked up at her. She was standing with her hands on her hips. "Don't you _dare_ talk that way. I _know_ you, Chuck. You're one of the best people I know."

"Yeah, bro," Devon cut in. "You're like…"

Ellie shot him a withering glance and Devon suddenly found the motel room's curtain very interesting.

Ellie turned back to Chuck. "Chuck, Dad told me that there's some kind of… problem… with the whole Intersect 2.0 thing. I… I couldn't really understand it. You'll have to get him to explain it to you. But he did say he could fix it."

Chuck glanced over at Sarah and she nodded reassuringly. She didn't know what Ellie was talking about, but Ellie seemed to be telling him what he needed to hear.

"Fix it how?" Chuck asked.

"He said he would contact you and explain everything," Ellie replied.

Chuck frowned. "How? Does he even know where we are?"

Ellie nodded. "I told him we were supposed to meet you if there was any kind of problem. But he told me not to tell him where, since the phone line was not secure. He said he had ways of finding out on his own."

Chuck nodded and almost smiled.

"Chuck," Ellie said. "Our Dad's not really just some Beautiful Mind, crazy engineer recluse, is he?"

Now Chuck did smile. "No. No, he's not. He's been protecting us, Ellie, all these years. Or at least, trying to."

"From what?" Ellie asked.

"From the Intersect," Chuck said, the smile quickly fading. Sarah squeezed his hand even harder.

**Buy More, Burbank, California**

Jeff Barnes was crouched on the roof of the Buy More, peeking out over top of the Buy More sign as he scanned the parking lot. A black van was parked just in front of Underpants, Etc. – the only vehicle in an otherwise deserted parking lot. Jeff picked up his walkie-talkie. "Nightcrawler to Papa Bear. Nightcrawler to Papa Bear. Over."

The rather annoyed voice of Big Mike cracked back through the speaker. "What's this Nightcrawler, crap? Just tell me what you see, Barnes."

Jeff keyed the mike. "But Nightcrawler is my code name," Jeff whined. "What if someone is listening in to our communications?"

"Then they're going to be as pissed off at you as I am," Big Mike replied. "Now what do you see?"

"There's a black van parked in front of Underpants, Etc. At least, I think it's black. In this light, it could be navy blue. I've always been a little night blind and…"

"What are they doing?" Big Mike asked, cutting him off.

"Just sitting there, Papa Bear."

"Can that Papa Bear shit," Big Mike replied. "And just keep an eye on them."

Big Mike put down the radio and turned to the group of Buy Morons huddled in the dark store. "I need a couple volunteers for recon. Lester. Grimes. Thanks for volunteering."

"But I… That is, we…" Morgan stammered.

"Go see what's up with that black van over in front of Underpants, Etc. It could be our bad guys," Big Mike ordered.

Morgan started to protest, but Anna grabbed his arm and pulled him in to give him a kiss. "Be careful, my big, brave Morgan."

The protest died on Morgan's lips and he grabbed Lester by the arm. "Come on, Lester. Let's go check out that van."

"But… But… But…" Lester stammered. Morgan ignored him and pulled him toward the back of the store.

Big Mike twirled the baseball bat he affectionately called his 'fiddle' and surveyed the assembly line of Green Shirts and Nerd Herders busily preparing his arsenal. "Let 'em come," he muttered. "We'll be ready for them. No one messes with my store."

In 'The Cage', Morgan opened his gym bag, pulled out the black shirt, black pants, and black ski-mask and shoved them in Lester's hands. "Put these on," he said.

"Listen," Lester said. "It's Friday and the sun has gone down and that officially makes it the Sabbath and I don't think I can be…"

Morgan gave him a look. "Lester, since when have you ever worried about the Sabbath?"

"Since Big Mike asked me to risk life and limb?" Lester said.

"Listen," Morgan said. "I have already faced death. And he looks a lot like Harry Tang."

Lester frowned and furrowed his brow.

"My point is," Morgan continued, "Anna and I faced death and we survived. I had no idea I could face something like that, but I can! I did! And now I feel alive." He clamped his hands on Lester's shoulders. "Come on, Lester. Don't you want to feel alive?"

"If you can do it," Lester said, "I can, too." He and Morgan pulled on their black outfits and pulled the ski-masks down over their faces.

"Now let's do this," Lester said.

Morgan turned to start out the door, and Lester darted back toward the front of the Buy More. Morgan lunged and grabbed him. "This way," he said, turning Lester toward the door to the loading dock.

"Mother," Lester whined.

**Super 8 Motel, Gran Junction, Colorado**

There was a knock at the motel room door. Sarah and Carina flattened themselves on either side of the door while Chuck herded Ellie and Devon into the bathroom.

"It's Bruce Banner. Open up."

Sarah let out a breath and looked at Carina. Carina nodded. Sarah pulled the door open and jumped back while Carina covered the door.

Casey strode through and tossed a couple bags on the bed. "Your clothes," he said to Sarah.

"Aw, Johnny. No hello for me?"

Casey turned around and looked at Carina. "Chuck picked the right code name for you," Casey said. "You've got more lives than a cat."

"Good to see you, too, Johnny," Carina said, smiling.

"Where's Forrest?" Sarah asked.

"I've got her outside watching our six," Casey replied.

Sarah nodded.

Chuck, Ellie and Devon emerged from the bathroom. "Hello, John," Ellie said.

Casey turned and glared at Carina. "You shouldn't have brought them here. Now we're compromised."

"Relax, John," Ellie said. "I know."

"Know what?" Casey asked.

"Everything," Ellie replied.

Casey narrowed his eyes and glared at Carina. She shrugged. "Wasn't me. Some guy named Orion."

"So Orion's still watching our back," Casey said with a satisfied grunt.

"Hey, now that we're all here," Devon cut in. "Who's up for pizza?"

**Buy More, Burbank, California**

Morgan and Lester darted from shadow to shadow, edging closer to the black van in the parking lot.

Morgan pulled out a walkie-talkie. "Nightcrawler, this is Samwise. Nightcrawler, this is Samwise. Do you have eyes on us?"

"I thought you were Green Arrow?" Jeff voice sounded tinny through the walkie-talkie's tiny speaker.

"No, no," Morgan said. "That was only for Call of Duty. For this op, I'm Samwise."

"I think I liked Green Arrow better," Jeff replied.

"Never mind that, Jeff. Do you still see the van?"

"Roger that," Jeff replied. "They're still just sitting there."

"We're closing in," Morgan said. "If they make a move, holler."

"Wouldn't it be better to call you on the radio?" Jeff asked.

Lester grabbed the walkie-talkie. "That's what he meant, you moron!"

"Oh, hey Lester."

"Do not use my name over an open channel," Lester hissed. "I'm Wolverine."

Morgan grabbed the radio. "Jeff, just call on the radio if anyone gets out of the van."

"Roger that."

Morgan and Lester crept closer to the van, flattening themselves against the nearby buildings and peeking around the corners. Finally, they darted across the last few feet to the van, crouching just in back of the rear doors.

Morgan slowly raised himself to peer in the back windows. Though the van's windows were darkly tinted, the interior of the van was lit by a row of video screens, allowing him to just make out three people seated in the back.

"That is so cool," he whispered to Lester. "It's like Jeff's van on steroids."

"Can we go now?" Lester asked.

"Wait," Morgan said. "One more thing." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a potato.

**Super 8 Motel, Gran Junction, Colorado**

"We need a plan," Casey said, taking a large bite out of his Meat Lover's pizza.

"What did you have in mind?" Sarah asked, picking the olives off of a slice of Supreme.

"We need to take the fight to them," Carina said. "I'm tired of letting them have the initiative. We need to take charge."

"And how do we do that?" Casey asked. "We don't have a location."

Casey, Sarah and Carina were sitting on the bed closest to the door. Ellie and Devon reclined together on the far bed. Chuck paced between the two beds for a moment, before finally sitting down on the bed across from Sarah and Carina.

"Listen," Carina said. "We…"

"I'm going home," Chuck said softly.

All eyes turned to Chuck.

"What was that, Chuck?" Sarah asked.

"I'm going home," Chuck said. "I'm tired of running. Let them come for me. I don't care anymore. You all stay here. Watch Ellie and Devon. It's me they're after. You'll all be safer without me."

Sarah stood, walked around to Chuck's side of the bed and sat down next to him. "Chuck," she said. "Don't talk that way."

"You mean tell the truth?" Chuck asked. "I thought I lost you," he said, the pain of the memory fresh in his eyes. He looked around the room. "All of you. I can't go through that again. I need this to be over. One way or another."

Suddenly, the door to the room burst open and a man in a Fed Ex uniform stumbled through, his arm twisted up behind his back by Agent Forrest. "He was at the front desk, asking for Peter Parker's room," Forrest said.

"I've… I've got a delivery," the man stammered. "For a Mister Parker."

Chuck stood. "I'm Peter Parker."

"We've been compromised," Forrest said. "This man should be eliminated."

"You'll have to excuse our friend," Chuck said, stepping around the bed to hold out his hand to the delivery man. "She's a little…" he gave an exaggerated eye roll, "You know…." He glared at Forrest. "Alex, let him go."

"This is a mistake," Forrest said. But at a scowl from Chuck, she pushed the man forward and then stomped out the door.

The delivery man shoved a package in Chuck's hands, and then bolted out the door.

Chuck turned the package over, examining it. With a shrug, he grabbed the tab to tear it open.

"Wait!" Sarah cried. "Chuck, you don't just open a package like that."

"I'll get my gear," Casey said.

Ten minutes later, Casey had thoroughly scanned the package. "No explosive residue. No chemical signatures. No obvious booby traps."

Chuck grabbed the box. "Can I open it now?"

Casey shrugged. "Go ahead."

Chuck tore open the package and the box. A familiar looking laptop computer slid out. Chuck smiled. "Dad!"

"What is it?" Ellie asked.

"A laptop. From Dad… Orion."

Ellie shook her head. "I still can't quite wrap my head around the fact that my dad is some kind of super secret techno spy."

"And your brother, too," Devon cut in.

"It's almost easier to believe about Chuck," Ellie said, rubbing a hand over Chuck's arm.

Chuck opened up the computer and instantly recognized the initiation and recognition sequence. After scanning him to verify his identity, a figure appeared on the screen composed of seemingly randomly flashing numbers and letters.

"Hello, Charles," the figure said in its heavily modulated voice.

"Orion," Chuck said in reply.

Orion's image seemed to scan the room. "Charles, can we speak in private? You and Sarah?"

Chuck looked around the room. Sarah gave him an approving nod, while Casey simply shrugged. Chuck took Sarah's hand. "Okay," Chuck said.

Chuck carried the laptop into the bathroom. Sarah followed him in and shut the door. They sat together on the edge of the bathtub and Chuck balanced the computer on his knees.

"Okay, Dad," Chuck said. "We're alone."

The screen flashed white and the serious face of Stephen Bartowski appeared. "Hello, Charles. Hello, Sarah. It's good to see you. I'm sorry I haven't been around, but the Ring has been closing in on me. I had hoped with Fulcrum gone we would get some peace, but I guess not."

Chuck's face clouded. "Ellie, Dad? Really?" His tone was sharp. "How could you do that? How could you intersect Ellie?"

Sarah laid a hand on his arm. "Chuck."

"No!" Chuck said, pulling his arm away, causing the laptop to teeter dangerously. "After all I've done to try and keep Ellie safe. To keep her away from the CIA, from Fulcrum, from… everything."

Stephen Bartowski shook his head sadly. "I had no choice, son. That Lizzie girl and an entire team of agents were closing in on her and Devon. There was nothing I could do." He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "It's my fault. I couldn't protect her. I tried to take out the teams with a Predator, but the Ring countered every one of my moves."

"But Dad! Do you have any idea what the Intersect has done to me? Of the things I've done?" Chuck's voice cracked and he blinked back the tears.

Sarah grabbed his arm again and this time he didn't pull away.

"Chuck, it's not your fault. Once I turned the Intersect 2.0 over to Bryce and his handlers, they… did things to it. They changed the coding. Tried to make not only super agents, but ruthless, soulless agents who would do their bidding. Chuck, you've fought that programming and you've succeeded, for the most part, in controlling _it_ rather than allowing _it_ to control _you_. As I understand it from what I've gleaned from the intelligence reports, the only times you've lost control is when you were under extreme stress. Especially those times where Sarah's life was in danger."

Chuck looked over at Sarah. A part of him knew that what his father said was true. It was only when Sarah was in danger… or when he thought Tommy had killed her… that the Intersect seemed to take over. He took a deep breath and blinked several times, then looked back at the screen.

"And I can fix it, Chuck," Stephen continued. "I can remove, or at least overwrite, that portion of the programming. I can give you, if not complete control, at least more control. Okay, Charles?"

Chuck looked at Sarah. She reached up and gently brushed an errant curl back behind his ear and smiled. Chuck licked his lips, swallowed and then gave her a slight nod. Then he turned back to his father. "Okay, Dad. I trust you."

"Good," Stephen said. "I can run a remote program on your laptop that will counter the programming, but you'll lose consciousness for a bit, like before when we removed the Intersect. You understand?"

Chuck nodded.

"Then you'll be out of it. You can take Ellie and Devon and hide until this is all over."

"Dad," Chuck protested. "It'll never be over. Not as long as the Ring exists. Not as long as I'm the Intersect."

"I'm working on that, Chuck," Stephen said. "I've managed to deal the Ring a serious blow, but there's been some… collateral damage. That's why I wanted to talk to you, Sarah."

Sarah released Chuck's arm and turned to the screen, her eyes narrowed and her lips set in a hard line. "Yes, sir?" she said.

"I managed to infiltrate the Ring's computer network. Or at least a portion of it. I received some information. Some very important information." He paused, and took a breath. "Sarah, I need you and Casey to rescue Jill."

At the mention of Jill's name, Chuck swallowed hard and he could no longer keep the tears from welling up in his eyes.

"Dad," he choked out. "Jill's dead. She… she and one of our team, Roan Montgomery… Tommy – that's one of those that the Ring broke out of the Threatmax facility – he and his team captured and killed them."

"No, son," Stephen said.

"I heard it!" Chuck practically yelled. "He killed them while I listened! I… I couldn't do anything. I couldn't stop him. At least… not then."

"Charles," Stephen cut in.

"They're dead! And all because of me."

"No, Charles," Stephen said. When Chuck didn't seem to respond, he said louder, "Charles, listen to me! They're not dead. The Ring wanted you broken. Wanted to use you… use the Intersect. In order to break you, they sent Tommy to kill everyone you knew. But Jill offered them a bargaining chip to keep them alive."

A look of intense pain flashed across Chuck's face. "So she betrayed me," he said softly, looking down at the floor.

"No," Stephen said. "She betrayed _me_. At least, she pretended to."

Chuck looked back up at his father. "I don't understand."

"You know Jill was working for me," Stephen said.

Chuck nodded. "Like Bryce."

Stephen nodded in turn. "Yes, like Bryce. But we had set up a protocol in case she was captured. She could bargain her way out by offering them one thing they couldn't resist… me."

"I don't understand." Sarah cut in.

"I gave Jill certain codes and protocols which could be used to gain access to my computer system. The Ring could hack their way in and gain access to all the information I have compiled over the years… as well as all my research into the Intersect." Stephen smiled. "But it was a red herring. The codes gave them access to one of my secure servers, all right. But it was one I had carefully designed as a trap. It had an incredibly elaborate encryption system which would require the computer power of the Ring's most power computer to break. And once they tied that computer into mine, I was able to upload a Trojan horse."

Sarah looked at Chuck. "A Trojan horse," he said. "It's a secret program that gives you a back door into their computer system. We deal with them all the time at the Buy More."

Stephen smiled and nodded. "Oh, Chuck, I wish I could show it to you. It was so cool…" He stopped and composed himself. "Anyway, that's how I was able to access the Ring's system. And when I did, I found out where they are holding Jill and Roan Montgomery."

"And you're sure they're still alive?" Chuck asked.

Stephen nodded. "They're alive, Chuck." His eyes flashed over to Sarah. "And I owe it to Jill to at least try and get her out. Or rather, to ask you to get her out. I'm too old to go storming the castle."

"We'll do it," Chuck said. "Where are they?"

"No, Chuck," Stephen said. "You're not a spy. This is something for Sarah and Casey and the rest of their team. You need to take Ellie...."

"No," Chuck said, forcefully. Then he took a breath and continued a little more softly. "Dad, I am a spy. Now."

"No, Chuck," Stephen said. "It's too dangerous. You don't know what the Ring is capable…"

"Oh, believe me, Dad," Chuck cut in. "I know _exactly_ what they're capable of. That's why I have to do this. Now. Where are they?"

Stephen looked to Sarah, his eyes pleading with her to talk some sense into his son. Sarah looked to Chuck and, seeing the determination in his eyes, swallowed her own protest. 'Besides,' she thought. 'When had he ever stayed in the car?'

Sarah gave Stephen an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Chuck's father seemed to deflate slightly, but then nodded. "The Castle," he said. "They've taken over the Castle and are holding them there. With you and the rest of your team on the run, it's the last place anyone would think to look for them. And besides, if you went back to base, they would nab you in the process."

Chuck shook his head. "Damn," he muttered, under his breath. Then he looked at Sarah and smiled. "Well, at least we'll be fighting on our home turf."

Stephen shook his head. "I can't talk you out of this, can I?"

Chuck looked at Sarah and took her hand, and then he looked back at his father. "We're a team, Dad. A package deal."

"All right," Stephen sighed. His arm came into view with his wrist computer strapped to it. His fingers flew over the keyboard a moment. "I've uploaded all the necessary information into this laptop, and I've diverted an Air Force C-130 Hercules to your location to take you back to Los Angeles."

"Okay," Chuck said, impressed with his father's abilities yet again.

"Just leave Ellie out of this one, okay?" Stephen asked.

"Yeah, Dad."

"Oh, and Sarah?" Stephen said.

"Yes, sir?"

"Take care of Chuck."

Sarah smiled and ran her hand lightly down Chuck's arm. "He takes care of me," she said.

"You ready, son?" Stephen asked.

Chuck nodded.

"Just watch the screen. Sarah. Avert your eyes."

By now, the confusing jumble of images was almost familiar.

**Buy More Parking Lot, Burbank, California**

The thug called Scar rolled his thick neck from side to side to work out the kinks. Surveillance was the most boring part of intelligence work. Scar was more of a 'grab the opposition and torture them until they talked' kind of guy. But so long as Leader was in charge, he would have to play by Leader's restrictive rules. If only this 'Chuck' character would show up so they could have some _real_ fun.

He yawned, and the one they called 'Rose', the red-headed ice-queen who Leader had left in charge of this particular stake-out, slapped him on the back of the head. "Are we keeping you awake?" she asked.

Scar blew out a slow breath. It was a certain career-ender to kill your immediate supervisor, no matter how much she deserved it. "You really think this Bartowski character is going to show up in the middle of the damned night?"

"According to Leader, this Buy More is the front for Bartowski's secret CIA station. Every bird returns to the nest eventually."

'Every bird returns to the nest eventually,' Scar mouthed sarcastically, but carefully so as not to allow Rose to see him. He'd been in the damned briefing, too, and didn't need her to remind him. Of course, the briefing had been something of a joke. This 'Ring' kept information too compartmentalized. Clearly there were other teams trying to track down this Bartowski character, but Leader claimed he didn't know who they were or where they were operating. Each team was acting on its own. If they weren't careful, they'd end up getting fragged by some other Ring team.

He looked up at a pair of headlights turning into the parking lot. "Hey, looks like our relief is here."

"About time," muttered the third person in the van, the one they called 'Deacon'.

"All right," Rose said. "As soon as they're in place, we can report back to the warehouse and catch some shut-eye."

Scar slid behind the wheel of the van and waited until the identical black van parked in a spot near the Orange Orange. When the new arrival flashed its lights twice, he turned the key. The engine whined, but failed to turn over. Scar frowned, pumped the gas, and tried again, with the same result.

"Shit," he muttered, loosening the stupid black tie that Leader had insisted they wear.

"What's wrong?" Rose asked.

"Stupid van won't start."

"Didn't you check it before we left the warehouse?" Rose asked.

"Of course I checked it," Scar spat.

"Call Leader," Rose said. "We can't draw attention to ourselves getting out and trying to fix it in the middle of the night."

**C-130 Hercules, en route**

Chuck grimaced at the loud droning in his ears and screwed his eyes more tightly shut, trying to make it go away.

"Chuck?" a woman's voice had to practically yell in his ear in order to be heard.

"Five more minutes," Chuck moaned. "Can you turn off that alarm? It's awfully loud."

"Come on, Chuck," the voice said. "Time to get up."

Chuck opened his eyes and was rewarded with the sight of a beautiful, blue-eyed blonde smiling down at him. His head was cradled in her lap and she was gently stroking his hair.

"Where are we?" Chuck asked. He tried to sit up, but felt light-headed and laid his head back in Sarah's soft lap.

"We're on a C-130 about to land at the Marine Corps Air Station at El Toro. Casey's at the controls and Forrest is in the right-hand seat. Casey's arranged with some of his Marine Corps contacts to get us transportation and we'll head straight to Castle."

The nausea was fading and Chuck tried again to sit up, this time with more success. Still, he leaned against Sarah. As much for the comfort of her presence as any real need for support. He looked around. Ellie and Devon were sitting in jump seats, talking to Carina.

"What are they doing here? You should have left them behind," Chuck said.

"I tried," Sarah said. "So did Casey and Carina and even Forrest. But you know how hard-headed your sister can be. She insisted on coming along to 'keep an eye on you.'"

"Fine, but we leave them behind when it comes time to attack Castle."

"Agreed," Sarah said. "Though it will take some convincing. Ellie seems to think she's Wonder Woman now."

"So we need to change her codename to Diana Prince and Devon's to Steve Trevor?"

Sarah smiled. It said something about how much time she had been spending with Chuck and Morgan that she recognized the reference. "Yes, maybe we should."

"So do we have a plan?" Chuck asked.

Sarah smiled. "At least the beginnings of one. Casey, of all people, insisted that we get your input before we got too far along into the planning. We can go over it on the drive to Burbank."

"Are you okay with this?" Chuck asked. "Saving Jill, I mean?"

Sarah nodded. "I'm doing this for you, and for your father. I still don't trust Jill, but if nothing else we owe it to Roan Montgomery to get him out."

**Buy More, Burbank, California**

A third black van pulled into the parking lot.

"Wow," Jeff muttered from his rooftop perch. "It's like a black van convention."

A bald-headed man in a black suit and skinny tie climbed out of the newly-arrived van. He stepped over to the van in front of Underpants, Etc. and tapped on the back. The doors opened and he climbed in.

"Papa Bear, this is Nightcrawler. We've got more company."

Big Mike keyed his radio. "I told you to can it with that Papa Bear crap! I ain't your daddy. Now what do you mean 'more company'?"

"Another van just pulled into the parking lot with more of those Men in Black guys inside. Say, do you think maybe they really are Men in Black and are here because we're the epicenter of a proposed alien invasion?"

"Just keep an eye on them and let me know if they make any move toward the store," Big Mike said.

"Roger that," Jeff said, and settled in for a little more reconnaissance. In the meantime, he popped open his thermos filled with Irish Coffee and took a long drink.

**Lou's Deli, Burbank, California**

"Casey," Chuck said. "You're going to fix that door." He was looking at a broken lock on the service entrance to Lou's Delicatessen. "I told you you should have let Sarah pick it."

"If you don't shut it, Bartowski, the lock's not going to be the only thing broken."

Ellie shook her head and whispered to Sarah. "Are they always like this?"

"Pretty much," Sarah said. "Although there was that one time when Casey had this virus and Chuck had the antidote…"

"Sarah!" Chuck whirled and glared at Sarah. "We promised never to speak about that again."

"Virus?" Ellie asked. "Chuck, we really, _really_ need to talk after this is over."

Chuck gave a weak smile. "With any luck, maybe I'll get shot," he muttered.

"What was that, Chuck?" Ellie asked.

"Nothing. Nothing," Chuck replied.

Casey pulled two tables together and laid out the blueprints for Castle. "Okay," he said.  
"We have to assume that they have the Buy More and Orange Orange entrances covered," he said, pointing to the entrances on the plans. "And since they have Cole, we have to assume that they also know about the emergency entrance he came through."

"So, what, Casey? We use transporters and beam in?" Chuck asked.

"No, moron," Casey said. He glanced up and saw the disapproving look on Ellie's face. "Um, sorry," he said quickly. "There are access points they might not know about. Here," he pointed to a spot on the plans, "which we'll call ingress point Alpha, and here," pointing to another spot, which we'll call ingress point Beta."

"Ooh, Casey," Carina said. "I love it when you talk spy."

Casey ignored her and continued. "Ingress point Alpha is the main air return. Orion has said that he'll disable the Castle security protocols at exactly 0430, so we don't have to worry about the alarm. We will have to cut through the access vents here and here. Ingress point Beta is a construction tunnel that was abandoned after Castle went operational. It doesn't appear on any of the plans, so they shouldn't know that it's there."

"How do we know it's still accessible?" Forrest asked.

"I've been using it to store some of my personal supplies and weapons stores," Casey said.

"Personal supplies?" Sarah asked.

"He's been using it as his wine cellar," Chuck said.

Casey glared at him. "You knew? Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because then you would have moved it and I would have had to buy wine whenever it was my turn to bring it to dinner," Chuck said.

"Bartowski!"

Ellie laid a hand on Casey's arm. "I'm sure Chuck will be happy to reimburse you after the mission's over, won't you Chuck?" Ellie said.

The grin faded from Chuck's face. "Yes, Casey," he said.

"All right. Forrest and I will go in through the construction tunnel and Sarah and Chuck will go in through the air return."

"Great," Chuck said. "Give us the dirty job."

"What about me?" Carina asked.

"You stay here and guard Ellie and Devon," Casey said.

"Uh-huh," Carina said, shaking her head. "I've done enough baby-sitting. I'm not missing out on the gun play."

"Fine," Casey said, rolling his eyes. "Forrest can watch them."

"No!" Ellie said emphatically. Everyone turned to look at her. "I don't trust her. She tranquilized Devon at his bachelor party!"

Forrest looked disgusted. "It was in the line of duty," she said.

"Besides," Ellie said. "Devon and I can take care of ourselves. You need everyone you can get storming the super-secret underground bunker thingy."

Casey looked at Sarah. She shrugged. "Casey and Forrest can take the construction tunnel. Carina, you can come with Chuck and me through the air return. As long as you," she looked pointedly at Ellie and Devon, "promise to stay here."

"Oh, definitely," Devon said. "I think I've had enough of this spy stuff."

Ellie nodded, but Sarah saw a hint of defiance in her eyes.

"What about these vans?" Carina asked, looking out the window of the deli. "They're obviously Ring agents on overwatch for the Castle."

"If we do this right," Sarah said, "we'll be in and out before they know that we were even here. Then we can send in a CIA tactical team to take them out."

"Right," Casey said. "We hit the entrances at exactly 0430. Any questions?"

"What about the people at the Buy More?" Chuck asked.

Casey shook his head. "Chuck, it's four o'clock in the morning. Who's going to be in the Buy More at this hour?"

**Buy More, Burbank, California**

Big Mike walked up and down the aisles, kicking the legs of sleeping Buy Morons. "Look alive, people. I know it's late, but these scuzzbuckets hit us on Thanksgiving Day before when they thought the store would be closed. They're casing the joint, so I'm betting they're going to hit us any minute now."

The Green Shirts and Nerd Herders moaned and groaned, and most simply rolled over and went back to sleep on whatever they had found to improvise as bedding.

Morgan and Anna were wrapped in each other's arms in a little nest made out of Beastmaster grill covers. "This is it, Anna. The big show. The time to separate the men from the boys. Time to put it all on the line. I may not come back alive, but I promise to come back carrying my shield or on it."

"You're so brave, Morgan," Anna gushed.

"Just let me go into battle with the taste of your sweetness upon my lips."

"Oh, Morgan!" Anna said, and kissed him deeply. Morgan pulled one of the grill covers over them to give them privacy.

Big Mike, surveying his 'team', sighed heavily. "Times like this, I miss Bartowski and Casey."

**Buy More Plaza, Burbank, California**

Sarah cinched the straps on Chuck's vest while he checked the loads on his tranq guns. "Are you sure you don't want a real gun, Chuck?" Sarah asked, hating herself for even asking the question.

"Never again, Sarah," Chuck said. "I don't want… Hopefully that person is gone for good." He twirled one of the tranq pistols and slipped it into its holster. "Besides, I'm pretty good with these."

"It's time," Carina called from where she had just finished putting micro-charges on the grate to the air return. A triangular rig was set up above the grate, and climbing ropes hung from the apex of the tripod.

Chuck pulled out his cell phone and tapped in a code, which immediately sent a message to Orion, letting them know they were ready. He waited thirty seconds and then nodded at Carina.

Carina smiled and pressed a button on a small black box. There was a small 'pfft' and a puff of smoke as the four micro-charges blew the bolts holding the grating on the air vent. That done, she clamped a hook on the center of the grating and flipped a switch at the top of the tripod. A small motor engaged and levered the grating off. With help from Chuck and Sarah, she lowered it to the ground next to the vent.

"Me first," she said, clipping her climbing harness to the rope she unfastened from the grate. She swung her legs over the edge of the shaft and jumped in. The motor on the tripod whined as the considerable slack in the rope caught and it strained to slow her rapid decent. Finally, it slowed and then stopped. The rope slackened and wiggled twice. Sarah hit the button on the tripod and the rope reeled back up.

"You next," Sarah said, hooking Chuck's climbing harness to the rope.

"A little slower than Carina, if you please," Chuck asked.

"Don't worry, Chuck. I've got you," Sarah said.

Chuck levered himself into the shaft and hung suspended over the dark hole. Sarah leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. "For luck," she said. Then she hit the button and Chuck was lowered into the dark shaft.

***

"I don't know why it won't start," Scar said to Leader. "It all checked out at the warehouse."

"Well, try it again," Leader said. "We're attracting attention having all these vehicles in the parking lot."

"Sir, look at this," Rose called from the back of the van.

"What now?" Leader asked.

"Sir," Rose said, pointing to a blurry image on her monitor. "There are people still in the Buy More."

"Must be the CIA station personnel," Leader said. "We've been made. Contact teams two and three. We've got no choice now but to take them down. At least if I can access the mainframe in the base, we might be able to use it to locate Bartowski." He reached into a locker in the van, pulled off his coat and tie and pulled out a black coverall and ski-mask. "Let's go."

***

"Nightcrawler to Papa Bear. Nightcrawler to Papa Bear. Emergency. Emergency. They're getting out of the vans!"

"Jeff, I though I told you to… What?" The import of Jeff's alarm suddenly registered on Big Mike's sleep and doughnut deprived brain. "Kumquat, people! Kumquat! They're coming! Take your positions!"

***

Carina blew the second grate with the same ease that she had the first, and then climbed out of the vent and into the giant air-blower. Orion's reboot of the facility had shut it down. She pulled out a small metal block and wedged it into the fan so it wouldn't start again, blocking their escape route. It never hurt to be careful.

She nodded over to Chuck, who slowly released the clamps which attached the access panel to the blower. And just like that, they were inside Castle.

"Good work," Sarah whispered. She keyed her mike. "Casey, we're in."

"Roger," Casey replied in her earwig. "We're in position as well. We'll create a diversion, you grab Roan and Jill."

"Good luck, Casey," Sarah replied.

After a short pause, there was a muffled 'boom' followed by the sharp 'crack', 'crack', 'crack' of gunfire.

"Casey's drawing them off," Sarah said. "Let's find Jill and Roan."

They hurried down the corridor toward the holding cells. From the opposite direction, smoke from Casey's smoke grenades began to fill the corridor. Suddenly, a figure darted out of the smoke.

'Phfft!' Sarah's silenced pistol cut down the would-be defender. Chuck suppressed a shudder and sprinted down the corridor. He came to the first cell and skidded to a halt.

"Cole?" he gasped.

Cole Barker was lying strapped to a gurney while a figure wearing a white lab coat leaned over him. At the commotion, the figure turned and Chuck's eyes went wide with surprise at the familiar face of Dr. Zarnow.

But the surprise on Chuck's face was nothing compared to the look of sheer horror on that of Dr. Zarnow. "You!" he gasped. "No. No, not again. He darted over to the door and punched in a code. A look of relief came over his face and he strode to the middle of the cell and smiled smugly through the glass at Chuck, Sarah and Carina.

"There," he said. "The door's locked from the inside and the glass is bullet-proof. I just have to wait until…"

He was cut off by the sound of the door opening. He glanced over in horror to see Chuck standing by the keypads.

"I have the override codes," Chuck said with a shrug. "I read the manual."

Sarah walked through the door. "Hello again, Doctor," she said. "Remember me?"

Zarnow backed into the corner of the cell, cringing away from the avenging angel. "Don't… Don't… I wasn't…"

Sarah looked over at Chuck and nodded. Chuck looked confused for a moment, but then pulled out one of his tranq pistols and fired it into Zarnow's neck. He slumped to the floor.

"Ah! Sarah! Agent Bartowski! Right on time," came a voice from the gurney. Chuck and Sarah both turned to face Cole.

"Good to see you, old chap," Cole said to Chuck. He craned his neck around to look at Sarah. "Hello, Sarah. I knew you wouldn't leave me to these fiends."

"Come on, Chuck," Sarah said, pulling Chuck's arm. "We have to find Roan and Jill."

"Wait!" Cole cried. "You're not leaving me, are you? You have to let me out!"

Sarah glared at him. "Why should we? You were trying to kidnap Chuck, or you wouldn't be in there."

"Orders, my dear," Cole said. "I was under explicit orders to _save_ Chuck from the Ring."

"By kidnapping him and dropping him in a deep, dark hole somewhere. I think we should leave you for the Ring."

Chuck stepped over to the gurney and started to undo the straps. "Come on," he said gruffly to Cole. "We haven't got all day."

Cole stretched, rubbed his wrists, and sat up on the gurney. "I'm afraid I'm still rather weak," he said. "I may need to lean on you, Sarah."

"Oh, shut it, Cole," Carina said, coming around the corner. "Or I'll handcuff you to that gurney."

Cole paled even further and quickly stood and hurried out of the cell.

***

Leader had his teams assembled behind the disabled van. He looked them over, making sure each one was properly armed and equipped.

The back door to the van opened and Rose stuck her head out. "Sir. Call for you on this." She handed him a small, round communication device. Leader keyed in a code.

"Leader here."

"This is a Ring Emergency Broadcast. Ring operatives in the Burbank CIA facility under the Burbank Buy More are under attack. Render all necessary aid and assistance. Repeat. Ring operatives in Burbank are under attack. Render all necessary aid and assistance."

"Damn," Leader swore. "It would have been nice if they had told me we have been staking out a Ring facility this whole time." He turned to his team. "So much for finesse. Full frontal assault. We need to take that facility."

The eight members of his team nodded and checked their weapons, then started to dash across the parking lot.

***

"All right, people," Big Mike hollered. "To your positions!"

Buy Morons scrambled out of their makeshift beds and ran to their assigned places.

He yelled to the back of the store. "Lester! Lights!"

In the back of the store, Lester hit the breakers and every light in the store and the parking lot outside came on.

Leader's team relied on night-vision goggles as they charged across the open parking lot. When Lester turned on the lights, they faltered and instinctively threw up their hands as they were blinded by the sudden brilliance.

Big Mike smiled. "Catapults! Ready!" he called.

On the roof of the store, a dozen Green Shirts were each holding one side of a double-D sized bra. Between each pair, a Nerd Herder loaded a balloon filled with paint in each cup of the bra.

"Catapults! Fire!" Big Mike called.

A dozen paint balloons arced over the Buy More sign and began to pelt Leader's minions.

"Try and rob my store, will you?" Big Mike yelled as Leader's team was suddenly covered in green paint.

"Paintballers! Fire!"

A dozen of the stores best Duck Hunt players darted out of the front of the store, knelt down, and started pelting the reeling attackers with paint balls, splotching their clothes and raising welts wherever the little yellow balls connected.

"Catapults! Fire at will!"

More paint balloons arced over the roof, splattering all around Leader's team.

Scar was the first to break. "The hell with this!" he yelled. Then he turned and ran.

***

Chuck ducked his head around the corner. Two Ring agents were crouched behind a makeshift barricade, facing toward the sound of Casey and Forrest's diversion.

Chuck leveled both tranquilizer guns and shouting, "Ahhhhh!" fired a half-dozen darts into each of the agents. They started to stand and turn, but their eyes suddenly rolled up in the back of their heads and they slumped to the ground.

Sarah stepped up beside Chuck and kissed him on the cheek. "You know, Chuck," she said. "It's more of a surprise if you don't yell."

Chuck smiled sheepishly. "Sorry," he said. "Reflex."

Sarah gave him a grin and then pointed. "The last cell is around here."

They turned the corner and stopped in front of the cell. Roan and Jill were together in the cell, huddled in the corner. Roan had his arms wrapped protectively around Jill.

Hearing footsteps, Roan looked up defiantly, only to have his expression turn to shock and then delight. "Charles!" he cried. "I should have known that you would be here to rescue us."

Jill looked up expectantly upon hearing Chuck's name, but her expression darkened when she saw Sarah standing beside him.

Chuck hurried to the cell door and entered the code to unlock the door. Nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing.

"Stand back," Carina said. She reached in her bag and pulled out one of her micro-charges. She put it on the door. With the quick press of the detonator, the lock popped off the door and the door swung open.

"Let's get out of here," Chuck said.

"Over there!" Cole shouted.

A half-dozen figures began to emerge from the smoke-filled corridor.

***

Three more of Leader's team followed Scar's example and ran.

Sensing victory, Big Mike yelled, "Let's get them!" The Buy Morons dropped their paintball guns and, led by Big Mike, charged at the staggering green and yellow painted attackers. The Buy Morons on the roof dropped their double-D catapults and, running around to the side of the roof where a giant blow-up slide waited, slid down to the ground to join the attack.

Leader's agents might have been blinded, staggered and bruised. Most had dropped their weapons or couldn't see to use them because of the paint in their eyes. They fell under the sheer momentum of the charging, over-weight, and out of shape Buy Morons. Several found themselves face down against the blacktop with Jeff or Fernando or one of the other large Buy Morons sitting on them.'

Finally, there was one Ring agent left. Leader. He pulled out a gun and held it to the head of the nearest Buy Moron – one Morgan Grimes.

"Stop!" Leader yelled. "Stop or I blow his brains out."

Everyone froze.

For a moment, there was no sound except the drip, drip, drip of paint falling from the Ring agents.

And then, from the far side of the green and yellow tableau, came a loud cry. "Get your hands off of him, you green and yellow bastard!" With a triple flip and a flying kick, Anna Woo's small feet connected with the side of Leader's head. He crumpled like an empty beer can in Mike Strahan's fist.

Morgan staggered backwards, stunned, and then smiled at Anna. "My hero!" he cried, pulling Anna into a bear hug.

Big Mike stood with his hands on his hips. "Lester. Get some zip ties and truss these losers up. Jeff. Get some water so we can wash this paint off."

"But, boss?" Jeff said. "Water won't work on oil-based paint."

"Barnes!" Big Mike yelled.

***

In Lou's Deli, Ellie stood with her head buried in Devon's chest. When she saw the Buy Morons charge their attackers, her first instinct had been to run. But there was a little tickling in the back of her mind that grew more and more insistent as the fists started flying. Suddenly, there was something like a flash in her mind – the second time she had experienced that particular phenomenon. Images of kicks, punches, throws, and tumbles flooded her mind and some how she knew – she just _knew_ – that she could take out those thugs.

She had started for the door when Devon grabbed her. "Whoa, El, where do you think you're going?"

"They need my help," Ellie said. She looked down at Devon's hands grasping her arms and suddenly could recite twelve different ways to break his hold and disable him in the process.

"It's not your fight," Devon said.

"But they…" Ellie started.

Devon pulled her close. "I promised Chuck, hon. I promised him I would keep you here."

"But the fight…" Ellie said, her voice muffled by his broad chest.

"Ellie," Devon said. "You're a doctor. This isn't you. You don't hurt people. You heal them. _It's not your fight_."

Ellie wanted to argue. Wanted to pull away and charge into the melee. But she knew Devon was right. She buried her face in his chest. "Tell me when it's over."

Now Devon gently released her. "See?" he said. "It's over. Anna clocked that big, bald dude. Now let's go see if anyone's hurt."

***

Chuck, Sarah and Carina all turned to face the figures emerging from the fog…

Only to discover that the front four had their hands on top of their heads. Casey and Forrest were behind them, prodding them along.

"We miss any fun?" Casey asked.

Chuck, Sarah and Carina let out their collective breaths.

"I'll lock this lot up," Forrest said, and then took the Ring agents back to lock them in the cell with Dr. Zarnow.

Once she had gone, Chuck looked around. "So that's it? We've won?" he asked.

"I'm afraid not, Charles," came a smooth voice from behind him.

They all turned to see Roan Montgomery holding a gun pointed at the center of Chuck's chest.

"I'm sorry, Charles. Now lower your weapons, all of you."

Chuck took a step forward. "No," he said.

Roan's gun wavered, ever so slightly. "My boy, I don't want to do it, but I will shoot you." He looked Chuck in the eye, blinked twice, and then turned the gun to face Sarah. "Or worse, from your standpoint, I will shoot Agent Walker."

Chuck took another step, placing himself between Sarah and the gun.

"No," he said again. "I don't think you will, Roan."

"Please, Charles. Don't make me do this."

Chuck took another step forward.

"Chuck!" Sarah pleaded.

Chuck took another step forward, until the gun was pressed against the middle of his chest. "Why, Roan?"

Roan gave what was intended to be a nonchalant shrug, but it came off as more of a twitch. "The Ring has… certain information. Information which cannot become public without… consequences to me and… others."

"What information?" Casey demanded.

"Ah, ah," Roan said. "That would be telling."

Chuck turned to give Casey a 'stay out of this' look and then turned back to Roan. "We can help," Chuck said.

Roan shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid not, Charles."

Sarah stepped up beside Chuck. "Why now, Roan?" she asked. "Why expose yourself as the mole now? Why not wait until you had Chuck alone?"

Roan shrugged. "A tactical error on my part."

"You want it to be over," Chuck said. "They're forcing you, and you don't like to be used."

Roan's indifferent persona slipped slightly and Chuck could see the anguish underneath. "No. No, my boy. I don't. But I have no choice."

"Roan," Chuck said. "There's always a choice. I can help you… _We_ can help you. The Ring doesn't have to know."

"They always know," Roan whispered.

"Roan," Sarah said. "Orion hacked their computer system. The Ring is in disarray. You don't have to do this."

Roan's brow furrowed and his gun wavered again. "Hacked their system?"

"That's right," Chuck said, nodding furiously. "He wiped their entire system. Whatever information they had on you, it's probably gone."

Roan's gun dropped ever-so-slightly. "I… I can't take that chance."

"So you'd rather be a slave to them forever?" Sarah asked. "You know they'll never let you go."

Finally Jill spoke up. "No," she said. "They won't. But you can get free." She looked at Chuck, the pain evident in her eyes. "And if anyone can help you, it's Chuck."

Roan lowered the gun and handed it, butt first, to Chuck. "Agent Bartowski, I am your prisoner."

Chuck shook his head at Roan, but did accept the gun. "No," he said. "You're part of Zodiac. I won't have you remembered as a traitor."

Roan's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Diane," he muttered, so softly that only Chuck heard. Then he shook himself and straightened, as if donning the persona of the old Roan, the dashing spy. Roan looked around at the other agents. "My apologies to you all." Then he looked Chuck right in the eye. "I've always wanted to play the double agent."

***

**EPILOGUE**

**The Castle, Burbank, California**

Team Zodiac stood together in the slightly-worse-for-wear Castle, facing an almost-smiling Diane Beckman on the large monitor.

"An incredible job," she said. "You've dealt the Ring a major set-back. We estimate it will take them months to recover. And thanks to Orion, much of the information on the Intersect and Operation Zodiac was purged from their computer records, so Team Bartowski will have a little bit of breathing room."

She looked past them. "Which is good, because it will take that long to repair all the damage you managed to cause in the process."

"So we can take a vacation?" Chuck asked.

General Beckman frowned. "Agent Bartowski. Even with this setback to the Ring, there are still other threats that…"

"Diane," Roan said, stepping forward. "These agents deserve a break. Give it to them."

Beckman sighed. "All right," she said. "Two weeks."

"Four," Roan said.

"Four weeks," Beckman amended. "It will be a vacation for me not to have to deal with all of you." With that, the screen went black.

Chuck turned to Roan and smiled broadly. "Thank you, Roan."

"It was the least I could do, Charles. And I'm sorry."

"Hey," Chuck said. "No harm, no foul. It will come out alright in the end."

"You are a rare find, Chuck," Roan said.

"Amen to that," Sarah said, sidling up beside Chuck and slipping her arm in his.

Across the room, Cole leaned heavily on a chair as he talked to Carina. "You know, it's going to take me some time to convalesce. Your government has arranged for a G-4 to fly me back to London."

"And _suggested_ you be on it as soon as possible," Carina said.

"The thing is," Cole said. "It has more than enough fuel to reach, say, Fiji. You could be my nurse."

Carina smiled and ran a hand playfully down his arm. "So what are you suggesting?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Cole asked.

"The private terminal at LAX? Say, two hours?" Carina said.

Cole smiled. "Until then."

**Private Terminal - Los Angeles International Airport, Los Angeles, California**

Cole leaned back in the seat on the plane and sipped his martini. Perhaps the trip wasn't such a bust after all. The Intersect was safe – for now – and even though he hadn't acquired it for Her Majesty's Government, one never knew when the opportunity might present itself in the future. Even better, he was about to take off for Fiji with a stunning red-headed DEA agent.

The cabin door opened and Cole struggled to his feet, carefully putting on his best smile…

Which quickly faded when Chuck stepped into the cabin, backpack in hand.

"Wow!" Chuck said. "This is the way to travel."

Sarah followed him in. "Nothing but the best for the CIA's best agent," she said, kissing him on the cheek.

"Wow! Awesome way to travel," said the tall, well-muscled blonde who was next through the door. "Honey, look at this plane, will you?"

Ellie looked around. "I suppose it will have to do," she laughed.

Cole's mouth opened and closed several times.

"Hello, Barker," said the last man to get on the plane. He walked up and slapped an envelope in Cole's hand. "Here you go. A one-way ticket to London. Coach. I'm here to make sure you make your flight."

"But… But…" Cole stammered.

Casey put a hand in the middle of Cole's back and shoved. Cole staggered toward the door.

"Can we bring you back anything from Fiji, John?" Ellie called.

Casey just grunted.

"That means 'no'," Chuck supplied.

Casey stepped out and closed the cabin door behind him.

"Hey look!" Chuck exclaimed from the back of the cabin. "Champagne!"

As he poured four glasses, Ellie turned to Sarah. "It's too bad John couldn't come along."

Sarah laughed. "Casey said it was a vacation just to be away from your brother for a month."

Chuck and Devon came forward and each handed their respective lady a glass. "To Fiji!" Chuck said.

They all clinked glasses, took a sip, and then Ellie snuggled up against Devon and Sarah snuggled up against Chuck and they strapped themselves in for takeoff.

***

Fade to black… aaaaaand – Commercial!

**Author's Note by Timewalker05**: _Wow! What a ride! Thanks you, first of all, to __**Poa**__ and __**MySoapBox**__ for reviewing, editing, proofreading, and critiquing this chapter – which turned out to be one of the most difficult things I have ever written._

_Thank you, also, to all of the authors of the Authors Intersect. Woo Hoo! Y'all Rock! It is truly humbling to follow the brilliant writing of authors of this caliber (and quite the challenge to try and tie up as many of their plot threads as possible.)_

_And a very, very, special thank you to the driving force behind the Authors Intersect – _**MySoapBox**_. I don't think either of us realized what a challenge this would be when we talked about doing a multi-writer project. And it truly was _**MSB**_ who really kept the project on track._ **THANK YOU MSB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**


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